


Eight Kids Room

by Kappahjp



Series: Family Is A Feeling and Home Is Where The Heart Is [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: But that's why we love them, Chan did not sign up to be a parental figure, Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Full time parent Bang Chan, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Part time parent Lee Minho, Protective Bang Chan, Shenanigans, Sickfic, Team as Family, Typical oldest child Changbin, but he rocks at it, but they're also cute, doting hyungs, mentions of punishment, mentions of spanking, stray kids are chaotic, the maknae line are basically siblings, the maknae line are brats, they're all crackheads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 114,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kappahjp/pseuds/Kappahjp
Summary: Eight ridiculously noisy and downright chaotic boys all work together and live under one roof. What could possibly go wrong?AKA: Stray Kids' dorm is a chaotic mess but they're family and that makes it all ok.AKA: Chan has his hands full raising five-to-seven actual literal children, but it's fine because they've got his back as much as he's got theirs.Non-chronological in terms of chapters, but I tried to be consistent in terms of actual timelines. Due to recent revelations, You-Know-Who has been edited out off all chapters and is no longer a character in the story.PG-13 at most for swearing, no romantic ships, may contain strictly parental-esque discipline in some chapters. Lots of fluff, some hurt/comfort and pathetic attempts at humour.***Disclaimer***This is a work of fanFICTION, as in, the events in this story are made up.Let's see where this journey takes us, shall we?
Series: Family Is A Feeling and Home Is Where The Heart Is [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830292
Comments: 133
Kudos: 494





	1. Always Be My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-Posted on Wattpad (or, well, the first few chapters were and then I somehow got locked out of my account.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Han is experiencing Middle Child Syndrome, and Chan is there to help. Because we all know that despite being one of the most depended-on members, Han is also 100% still a kid too.

Chan was at his wit's end. It had been a few months since their debut, and the entire group still couldn't quite believe that it was real. They had made it. They had debuted. All of them. Nobody was lost, nobody was left behind. All _should_ have been well. And it was, for the most part.

Group dynamics had been tricky, in the beginning, with certain members absolutely bound and determined to hate each other, and miscommunication being inevitable between members of different backgrounds, trainee periods and even countries- but they had made it work, and things were running smoother now. Everyone was settling in. Or, they had been. Chan had thought. However, one member in particular seemed dead-set on proving him wrong. And he was a repeat offender.

For the past few weeks, Jisung had been in some kind of funk, constantly sulking. One minute he'd be ignoring anyone who tried to speak to him, and the next he'd be trying to pick a fight with whichever member happened to be close enough to make an easy target. All the hyungs had tried talking to the younger about it, to try and get him to open up about what was bothering him (because something very obviously was), but both had been unsuccessful, and at this point, Chan was at a loss.

It was currently three in the morning, and Chan was sprawled out on the couch at the dorm next to Changbin, nursing a now-lukewarm hot chocolate (Having learned the hard way that drinking coffee late at night at the dorms was NOT a good idea because the kids followed his every move and he did NOT want to deal with the five of them hyped up on caffeine at four in the morning again).

Everyone else was already in bed, dead tired after a particularly gruelling day of practices, but Chan and Changbin hadn't quite been able to sleep. They had had a 3Racha writing session earlier that had not gone particularly well, and they were both still reeling from the sheer tidal wave of attitude and negativity that had been radiating off the 3Racha maknae the entire three hours.

"What the hell was that about?" Changbin said, not necessarily to Chan but not to himself, either.

"I have no clue," Chan sighed. "I've never seen him like this before."

"He's never _been_ like this before. Well, not with us, anyways," Changbin said.

"I wish he would just talk to us." 

Changbin laughed bitterly. "Yeah, best of luck. We can't even get him to take care of himself anymore. Trying to get him to come home last night was a nightmare. He literally rolled his eyes and turned his back on me at first, I had to steal his USB to get him to come home."

"He _did that_?" Chan gawked.

"Yeah," Changbin said wryly. "I still haven't given him back his USB. I'm considering 'accidentally' dropping it in the toilet, since I can't actually murder him like I want to."

Chan snorted, taking another sip of his hot chocolate and staring pensively at the dent in the wall above the TV. It had been Hyunjin's doing, about three weeks prior, if Chan remembered correctly. In an incident involving a rogue bouncy ball following a three-hour binge session of Dude Perfect trick shots videos with Felix. 

"This is getting out of hand. I knew he was like that with me, but I didn't think he'd go so far as to disrespect the rest of you," he said eventually.

"He's still the worst with you, though," Changbin said. "At least with the rest of us it's a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he's been consistently acting up with you."

"I know," Chan sighed, rubbing his temple. "I tell him to do something and he either ignores it or does the opposite. He's been skipping meals and sleep, too... I had to I wish I knew why, be he won't talk to me about it."

"Maybe you should make him talk," Changbin said. "You've been able to knock some sense into him before."

"I've tried just as often as you have."

"No, you just asked nicely," Changbin said. "You didn't go all Leader-Hyung on his ass yet."

"Ya!" Chan yelped, throwing a pillow at the younger. "I'm still your elder, you little shit!"

Changbin laughed, dodging the pillow.

"But you're right," Chan continued. "I was thinking the same thing. I was putting it off because I was hoping he would open up with time, but I think his time's up now. I'll talk to him tomorrow after schedules. Hopefully then he won't be in a bad mood and throw off the dynamics during dance practice again."

"Good plan," Changbin yawned. Chan huffed a laugh.

"Go to bed," he said, prodding the younger with his foot. "You look dead on your feet." Changbin nodded, groaning as he stood up and cracking his back.

"Practice was killer today," he muttered to the elder. Chan laughed again.

"Night Binnie," he said.

"Night Hyung," Changbin yawned, shuffling off down the hall.

Chan sighed, before chugging the rest of his lukewarm chocolate and heading off to bed himself. Hopefully everything would get back to normal tomorrow.

All things considered, the next day had run pretty smoothly. The boy was in a good mood on the way to practice, joining in on the banter with the boys in the seat behind him, yelping indignantly at something Seungmin had said to him and throwing off his seatbelt to try and reach back to attack the younger. Chan, from his place of honour in the coveted shotgun seat, had witnessed a rather irate Minho yank the boy back down into his seat with a hissed "We're on the highway, you idiot! Buckle up!" that Jisung had (fortunately) laughed off. Minho was the only one who had any luck getting Jisung to do anything these days, it seemed.

Individual lessons had gone well, and the group dance practice, which was the last schedule of the day, had gone off without a hitch. The dynamics were balanced and it showed- there was a synergy in their dance that had been lacking the last few weeks. Chan had a pretty good idea of why. Regardless, since practice had gone so well, their choreographer had let them off the hook early, and all the boys were now in the process of packing up their bags, and dispersing to go about their evenings. It was time.

"Han-ah, wait a minute, I wanna talk with you," Chan said, calling out to the boy across the room. Even from a distance, Chan could see the way the younger stiffened when he heard Chan calling him.

"Later, Hyung, I'm busy," came the reply, as the younger finished zipping up his backpack and threw it over his shoulder.

"Nice try, your schedule's free the rest of the day. Everyone's is."

"Yeah, but when the inspiration hits, I can't just say no, go back without me, byeeeeee!" Jisung made to flee the room.

"Uh-uh," Chan said, intercepting as the younger made a beeline for the door. "You're not running away from me anymore. Come with me."

"Who's running?" Jisung hedged, dancing around the leader to slip out the door. "I'm not running, I'm walking. In the direction of the practice room, I've got things to do. Bye, Hyung!"

"Han Jisung."

Jisung paused and bristled. Uh oh. That was Chan's leader voice. Leader voice wasn't good. Leader voice meant 'heed me now or there'll be trouble.'

"I- fine," he scowled.

" _Thank_ you," Chan said. "Let's go to the studio. We'll meet the rest of you at home," he called over his shoulder to the others.

Once they reached their studio, Chan closed and locked the door before guiding Han over to the couch in the corner and pulling the younger down next to him.

"Wanna tell me what's been going on with you lately?" He asked after a moment.

"Nothing's been going on with me lately," Han said, voice strained in an effort to keep from breaking.

"Don't lie to me, Sungie. I've known you for too long now to believe that," Chan scolded gently, nudging the younger boy with his elbow. "There's obviously something, you've been avoiding me for ages now. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Hyung. Its stupid," Jisung said, inhaling shakily.

"Hannie, talk to me," Chan said, and that was all it took for Jisung to start crying.

"Aigoo," Chan sighed, grabbing the boy's hand. "Come here, Baby. Tell Hyung what's wrong."

"'Don't call me that! I'm not your baby anymore," Jisung said brokenly through his tears.

"What? What do you mean?" Chan asked, confused.

"Forget it," Jisung sobbed. "It's so _stupid_ , Hyung-"

"Sungie, tell me," Chan insisted.

"It's just- I- Did you have to pick SO MANY members who were younger?"

"Huh?" Chan asked, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"I just- I have so much to do, and I- the others don't- so I have to- to- and they- they _don't_ , and- everyone treats them _different,_ and it's not _fair_ \- _I'm the same age too!"_

Huh? Oh. Oh! _Of course._

"Sung-ah, are you jealous of the others?" Chan asked gently.

"No! No, I- I love them! But- I mean- Jeongin is everyone's baby! And Felix- he's Australian too, so he needs more help from you and Seungmin's still new, Hyunjinnie too, and- yeah," Jisung finished lamely. He took a big, stuttering breath, looking down at his hands.

"You _are_ jealous," Chan said fondly, sadness laced in his tone. "I should have known. Come here."

He pulled the younger into his lap.

"Sung-ah," he said gently. "You know nothing has changed, right? Just because you're not the maknae of the group, doesn't mean you're not still _my_ maknae. That's not going to change."

"Why shouldn't it?" Jisung sulked, sobs finally dissipating somewhat now that he was curled up in Chan's arms. "You have Innie now, and he's like an actual baby and everyone loves him. He's gonna be a spoiled brat."

Chan chuckled slightly at that, and Jisung let out an indignant huff- but didn't lift his head from Chan's shoulders. "Like you aren't?" Chan challenged affectionately. "How many times did Hyungs buy food for you in the last week?"

"That's different," Jisung pouted. "I was on the brink of starvation, due to sheer neglect-"

"You were _hungry_ because you skipped meals to hole yourself up in the studio, of your own volition, despite being told several times this week to stop overworking yourself," Chan said, raising his eyebrow.

"Thought you wouldn't notice," Han mumbled, cheeks tinged pink.

Chan rolled his eyes affectionately. "Of course I noticed, I'm your hyung," he said.

"You didn't say anything, though," Jisung said.

"Didn't I? What about Tuesday night, when I sent Changbin to the studio to pick you up at like two in the morning? Or when I sent you and Felix out to get snacks after practice and conveniently made sure the doors to the studio were locked when you got back?"

"I- YOU sent him? And you _planned_ that? And Felix _agreed_? This is the utmost betrayal-" Han squawked.

"Well you weren't going to listen to me, seeing as you've been in a stroppy mood and shooting me dirty looks all week," Chan said, giving the other a pointed look. The younger looked away sheepishly.

"Sung-ah, I haven't stopped caring about you just because I magically have seven younger brothers instead of two. Nothing will change that. _Nothing_ ," Chan said, shaking the younger a little. "I'm still here for you, I'm still going to care for you, and I'm still going to scold you when you do stupid things like unbuckle your seatbelt on the highway to try and hit your friend in the seat behind you. Yeah, I noticed that too." Jisung blushed, and Chan started running his hand up and down the boy’s arm. "Our family grew, Sung-ah," he said, "but that's not a bad thing. You have four brothers around your own age now, who you can interact with in a whole different way. And you have twice as many Hyungs to love you and look after you."

Jisung sighed. "I know that," he said. "I do! And I love them- but- I don't know. I just miss you."

Chan leaned down to kiss the crown of the younger boy's head. "You don't have to miss me, Sungshine, I'm not going anywhere. You can still come to me anytime, okay?"

Jisung nodded against Chan's shoulder.

"Seriously, any time."

Another nod.

"Even if you just need a cuddle," Chan continued. "Nothing has changed between us, I promise. You're still my maknae too, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good," Chan said, ruffling Jisung's hair. "Now we can talk about the attitude you've been throwing around lately."

Jisung stiffened in Chan's hold.

"I've known there's been something off with you for weeks," Chan murmured. "But instead of just coming to me, you went back and forth between acting out and giving me the silent treatment. That's not a productive way of fixing things, Sung-ah. We've talked about the passive aggression before."

"Sorry, Hyung," Jisung said.

"So next time someone does something that hurts you- or you perceive them to have done something that hurts you, what should you do?"

"Talk to them," Jisung groaned.

"That's right. This kind of issue doesn't solve itself without effort on your part. You might be able to bottle up your feelings for a while, but they eventually come out and they're always worse if they fester. So no more of that, okay?"

"Okay."

"And you need to apologize to everyone else, as well," Chan said, nudging the younger again. "You've been taking your emotions out on them for weeks and that's not fair. You _especially_ need to apologize your your other hyungs. You've been really disrespectful to them, Sungie, and that's unacceptable."

"I will," Jisung said.

"Good. Now let's head back to the dorms, neither of us ate lunch today and I'm starving. I think the others ordered takeout, so let's head home before they eat it all, yeah?"

Jisung nodded, wiping away the last of his tears and Chan stood the boy up before guiding him towards the exit. "Wait. You didn't eat lunch? Hyung!" Jisung whined.

"Well we were supposed to eat together, but you were avoiding me," Chan said. "So I didn't eat."

"You should've still eaten something," Jisung muttered. "Now I feel bad."

"Good," Chan said. "If you don't take care of yourself then I won't take care of myself either."

"That's stupid, Hyung."

"Maybe you're right, Sungie," Chan chuckled, collaring the younger and ruffling his hair. "But if it gets you to take care of yourself, it's worth it for me."

Later that night, after everyone was fed and apologized to and an indignant Jeongin had been shooed off to bed ("It's not fair, Hyung! The others all get to stay up!" "The others don't have a math test tomorrow, now brush your teeth"), and after the remainder of the group had settled down and were staring at their electronic device of choice ("turn the TV _down_ , Seungmin, I can't hear my video!" "Use headphones then- HEY! Give me back the remote!"), Jisung crawled across the couch (and Changbin) to curl up next to Chan, who was quietly working on his laptop. Chan smiled gently, wrapping his arm around the younger. He leaned down to kiss the younger on the head. "See?" He murmured to the younger. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Hmmm," Jisung hummed. "Hyung?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm calling dibs on your bed tonight."

"Are you now?" The leader chuckled.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Silence.

"Hyung?"

"Yes, Jisung-ah?"

"Can we go now? I'm _exhausted_."

Chan laughed.

"Go on, I'll be up in a bit."

"Okay," Jisung said, rolling off the couch and wandering off down the hall.

"He finally came around then?" Changbin asked, looking up from the track he was working on on his laptop.

"Seems like it," Chan smiled.

"It's about time," Changbin said. "I was about ready to strangle him, honestly. I'm still contemplating drowning his USB." Chan snorted, saved his sound file and stood up, stretching his back and arms. "I'm gonna head to bed. You lot don't stay up too late tonight, yeah?"

"Sure, Hyung, whatever you say."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I mean it! In bed by twelve," Chan said, eyeing the hooligans sprawled throughout the room.

"Ugh!"

"Hyung, really?"

"Noooo!"

"That means you, Felix," Chan called over his shoulder as he retreated from the living room. "No staying up till 6 am playing League of Legends again!"

"That was one time!" The younger Aussie whined.

"You only got _caught_ one time," Minho retorted.

"This is discrimination!"

Chan snorted as he ducked into the bathroom, making quick work of washing his face and brushing his teeth, before slipping into his room. True to his word, Jisung was waiting in the leader's bed, looking at his phone and already half-asleep. Flipping of the light, Chan smiled and nudged the younger boy towards the wall, taking his phone and plugging it into the spare charger he always kept for whichever dongsaeng ended up in his bed, before sliding into the bed himself.

"Goodnight, Sung-ah," He murmured, stroking the younger's hair.

"Night Hyung," the younger slurred. "Love you."

"Hyung loves you too."


	2. Lost Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Felix gets lost and homesick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's very dialogue-heavy, I apologize.

An awkward silence had fallen over the practice room, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of dance clothes and the **_tick, tick, tick_** of the clock on the far wall. It read 7:18 pm. Rehearsal was supposed to start at 7, and everyone was getting a little antsy. The same question was on everybody's mind. _Where was Felix and why the hell was he so late?_

7:22.

"I'm gonna call him," Chan said. "The rest of you, start warming up. We can't afford to lose any more time. Minho, take the wheel." And with that, he stepped into the corner of the room to make the call.

"Where is he?" the leader muttered, irritatedly pulling out his phone and punching in the younger's number. Felix picked up on the second ring.

_"Hello?"_

"Felix?"

_"Um, Yeah?"_

"Where _are_ you? Practice was supposed to start twenty minutes ago!"

 _"I- I don't know,"_ Felix said. _"I seriously have no clue where I am right now and I'm kind of freaking out-"_

"What happened?"

_"Um, well, I had to go to the consulate today, right?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Well, I found that, but like the bus route isn't the same as the usual one? And I Kakao mapped it but the stupid thing doesn't work like Google does, and everything looks the same around me and I have no idea which direction I'm even supposed to be going or anything! And all the directions on the app are in Korean and I can't understand any of them and I SERIOUSLY have no idea what's going on anymore-"_

"Felix. Felix! Relax," Chan said. "Look around you. Is there anything you can recognize? Like a Starbucks or metro station or something?"

_"Um..."_

"Do you know how to send pins on Kakao?"

_"Um, I think so?"_

"Good. Send me your pin, I'm putting you on speaker."

_"Okay."_

Chan's phone pinged a minute later, and he stared at the pin incredulously.

"Geez, Felix, how'd you end up all the way out there?"

_"I seriously have no idea! I swear, I-"_

"Felix, calm down," Chan cut in. "You'll be fine. Just give me a second."

At this point, Seungmin, one of the only members who spoke any English, had stopped warming up to look over at Chan curiously. Feeling the eyes on him, Chan looked up, nodding pointedly in the direction of the rest of the group. A silent order to stay focused. Seungmin blushed and turned away quickly, and Chan looked back down at his phone.

"Felix?"

_"Yeah?"_

"Okay. Here's what you need to do. You need to walk until you find subway line 2, okay? It's the green one. It should be about a five-minute walk."

 _"Which way?"_ Felix asked shakily.

"Right? I think?"

 _"You think?"_ Felix asked nervously.

"Felix, calm down. Start walking. Worst comes to worst you double back the other way."

 _"Okay. I- Okay,"_ Felix choked.

"Let me know when you're there, okay?"

 _"Don't hang up,"_ Felix said urgently. It startled Chan a little bit.

"I won't," he said.

" _Okay."_ For a minute or two, Chan could hear nothing but the younger Aussie's shaky breathing.

 _"Okay! I see it,"_ Felix blurted.

"Good. Head down, hop on the train headed towards Konkuk University. It's only one stop to Konkuk. Got it?"

 _"I- Yeah,_ " Felix said.

"Good. I'm going to go tell the others what's going on, call me when you get to Konkuk Station, okay?"

_"Okay."_

"Hanging Up now."

Chan hung up the phone and called out to the others, who had finished warmup and had moved onto blocking their latest choreo challenge.

"Hey guys, Felix is a little lost so I'm going to run out and meet him at the subway station. Keep running the choreo until we get back, okay? Try to become familiar with the flow and we'll try to bring it up to speed when I get back." The others nodded, all sporting worried frowns. Chan quickly shrugged on his jacket and ducked out of the room, shooting a text off to their stand-in manager explaining the situation before ducking out the door. Felix called back as he was just exiting the company building.

"Felix?" He said.

" _Yeah, I'm here_ ," Felix said.

"Good. You're going to stay in that station, but transfer to the other line. The dark green one. Okay?"

_"Yeah."_

"Good. You're going to get off at the Cheongdam Station. It's two stops away. Then take exit three and I'll meet you there, okay?"

_"Okay."_

"Felix," Chan said. "Relax. You've got this. I'll see you in about fifteen minutes."

_"Okay."_

"Good. Call me when you get there, okay?"

_"Okay."_

"Hanging Up now. See you in a bit."

_"Bye."_

Chan walked in silence, cursing himself mentally for not bringing headphones along. He arrived at the station just as his phone buzzed again. A text from Felix.

**_Just got here_ **

**_I think_ **

**_Exit 3 right?_ **

**_Yeah_ **

**_Waiting outside_ **

A minute or two later, he spotted the younger Aussie rushing towards him."I'm sorry," the boy said shakily. "I didn't mean to- I must have got on the wrong bus, or something..."

"It's fine, Felix," Chan said. "These things happen. I can't believe they made you go alone."

Felix licked his lips and nodded.

"Let's go back, the others are waiting," Chan said.

Felix wrapped his arms around himself as they started to walk. Chan frowned worriedly at the younger boy as they made their way back to the company building in silence. They entered the practice room and after a quick stretch, jumped into the routine. Felix was off the whole practice- not glaringly so, but enough that Chan noticed. After a few hours, the group unanimously decided to call the quits and head back to the dorm for a quick shower, movie and bed.

The walk back to the dorms was rowdy as always, between yet another argument between Jisung and Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin bemoaning their school workload and the other hyungs either riling the two youngest up or chatting with Chan about their upcoming showcase. Chan made a point of keeping one eye on Felix as he walked, not wanting the younger to get swept away from the group by accident. The younger Aussie was silent, staring down at his phone as he walked. Twice Chan had to pull Felix out of a collision course- once with another pedestrian, and once with a poorly-placed lamp post.

Eventually, they made it home, and absolutely calamity broke out as people pushed each other over in the race for the first showers. The scuffle came to an end when Seungmin was gracelessly shoved in the direction of the bathroom (as reward for good behaviour).

While everyone else was tripping over each other to get in line, Chan ducked into the kitchen, not feeling like losing an arm or a leg. He sighed and went over to the kettle to start some water boiling. By force of habit, he filled it all the way to the top. It took longer to boil, but then there would be extra water for the three or four others who would see his drink and inevitably want one of their own. Eventually settled down with a steaming mug of tea, spacing out and getting lost in his thoughts until the shower was free.

"Your turn Hyung," Jisung yawned, startling Chan from his reverie as he walked into the room.

"Sung-ah, you scared me," Chan laughed, setting his mug down on the counter. "Has everyone else gone through already?"

"Yep. Ooh, is there any more water? I want hot chocolate," Jisung rambled, already peering through the cupboards.

"Help yourself," Chan gestured to the still-steaming kettle before covering his mug with a plate for later before padding off through the living room, ruffling Seungmin's newly-dried hair on the way by and laughing as the boy squawked and tried to hit him with the novel he was reading.

Twenty minutes later he emerged, quickly ducking into his room to grab sweats and a hoodie before making his way back to the living room, where everyone else was congregating. After a quick detour to pick up his tea, from the kitchen, he wandered into the living room, flopping down on the couch. Almost the entire group was congregated around the TV waiting for their much-anticipated movie night, except-

"Where's Felix?" Chan asked, scanning the room for the freckled boy. He was met with various grunts and vocalizations that roughly translated to "I don't know". The only verbal response he received was from Changbin, who yawned a simple "he hasn't come out yet." Chan frowned. "I'm gonna go check on him," he said, setting his mug down on the coffee table and hauling himself up off the couch again. "You guys get the movie set up. Minho, make popcorn."

He made his way to Felix and Seungmin's shared room and knocked on the door. "Felix?" He called softly. When there was no response, he softly pushed the door open. The lights were off and the room was dark, but Chan could just make out a stuttering breath, muffled by a veritable mountain of pillows and blankets.

"Oh my- Felix," Chan gasped, switching over to English as he rushed over to the younger Aussie's bed. "What's going on?"

Felix just let out a sob into his pillow.

"Hey, hey! Come here," Chan said gently, sitting on the bed and pulling the younger into a hug. Felix immediately turned to bury his face into Chan's neck, bawling violently.

"Shhhh. It's okay, I'm here," Chan said, rubbing the boy's arm. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Felix shuddered, pressing impossibly closer to the leader.

"I can't do this," He stuttered after a moment. "I can't- What the hell was I _thinking_ coming here? I'm not cut out for this-"

"Oh, _Felix_ ," Chan sighed, grip tightening on the younger.

"I can't even riding the fricking _bus_ on my own- _why the hell am I here?_ "

"You're here because you deserve to be," Chan said simply. "Because they think you have what it takes to become an idol."

"What good is an idol who can't speak Korean?" Felix snapped, before devolving into another fit of sobs. "I'm useless! I should never have left Australia-"

"You're not useless," Chan insisted. "Felix, you've been in Korea for just half a year, and Korean is like, one of the hardest languages to learn, ever. You'll get the hang of it, it just takes time."

"I don't have time, Chris!" Felix practically shouted. "We only have months. _Months_ until you're set to debut with or without me and I'm making exactly zero progress because of the damn language barrier-"

"Whoa, hey, where's _this_ coming from?"

"-And I'm holding you all back, I know I am, it's so _obvious_ \- and I'm fricking exhausted all the time because Koreans don't know the meaning of the word 'downtime,' and it's just too much," he said. "It's impossible. I can't- Chris, I want to go _home_ -"

"Felix. Felix- _Listen to me_!" Chan said, shaking the boy forcefully. "Stop for a minute and just listen. Okay?"

Felix sobbed.

"You're beating yourself up too hard for this. You don't suck, you're not holding us back and you aren't an idiot. You've been working so, so hard- No, don't try to argue that, you have been- and you've improved _so much_ in the last few months."

"You must be seeing something very different then," Felix snapped.

"I am," Chan said. "I wouldn't have pulled you in if I didn't."

"You just picked me because I'm Australian too."

"That's not true."

"Then why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're overwhelmed and stuck inside your head."

Chan pulled Felix in closer.

"I know it's hard right now. It really, really sucks sometimes. But all the extra hours you're putting in when the others are at school? They're making a difference. Felix, you've improved so _much_. I promise."

Felix hitched a shaky breath.

"Trust me," Chan continued. "I went through the same thing and I turned out okay, didn't I?"

"Yeah but you're a genius," Felix retorted tearfully. "Not all of us are good at every damn thing we try."

Chan huffed a laugh.

"I'm not a genius, it took me ages to learn Korean."

"Great, so I should be able to understand my band mates in another six years or so then," Felix said sarcastically. Just then, his stomach growled loudly. The boy blushed as Chan looked at him with surprise.

"When was the last time you ate something?" Chan asked.

"I don't know. Yesterday at some point," Felix said.

"What?!" Chan said. "It's like eleven pm! You've eaten nothing today?! _Why?_ "

"I don't like ordering food," Felix muttered.

"What?" Chan asked.

"I said I don't like ordering food," Felix groaned.

"Why?"

"The servers all get so judge-y when they find out I can't speak Korean. It's embarrassing," Felix whined. "I could play the foreigner card a lot better at home."

"What so you mean?"

"Come one, don't tell me you never pretended to be an ESL student when there was a relief teacher," Felix said.

"I literally never did that," Chan deadpanned.

"Really?" Felix asked. "You're joking."

"I'm a little concerned that you have, though."

Felix snorted. "Don't be, I'm more than making up for it now. From a local who looks like a foreigner to a foreigner who looks like a local. God has a sick sense of humour."

Chan huffed a laugh. "You're insane."

"Yeah, insanely hungry."

"Okay, Yeah, we need to get food into you. What are you craving?"

"Steak," Felix groaned immediately. "I would _kill_ for barbecue right now."

Chan snorted.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, pulling out his phone. "You're such an idiot. I can't believe you starved yourself to avoid speaking Korean."

"You haven't seen the way the ajummas look at me. It's seriously humiliating."

"It's mostly in your head. Go wash your face, the others are probably wondering what's taking so long."

"If they didn't start without us already."

"They damn well better not have," Chan retorted. "It's Thor. They can't watch a Chris Hemsworth movie without the Aussies!"

Felix rolled his eyes and did as he was told. Once takeout was ordered he and Chan were settled in the living room (the two of them in the one remaining free armchair), Chan drew the younger into another hug.

"You know you can always come to me with this kind of thing, right?" He murmured. "You don't have to keep this to yourself all the time."

Felix nodded. "Thanks," he replied softly.

"Just you wait. I'll be saying 'I told you so' in a year or two."

"You have way too much confidence in me."

"Or maybe you just have too little."

"Yah, Hojus," Jisung cut in, lobbing a handful of popcorn at the pair. "Pipe down, we can't hear the movie!"

"Han Jisung, I just vacuumed yesterday!" 


	3. Fever Like I've Got the Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we discover what happens when the unstoppable force that is Seungmin's sickly stubbornness meets an immovable object in Chan's constancy.

"Seungmin-ah!"

Minho startled from his daze, looking up from his spot on the black leather couch next to Chan. The leader looked at him apologetically before redirecting his attention to the other side of the dance studio.

"Come here a minute," Chan called to the fluffy-haired boy who was sitting against the wall watching Felix and Jisung do... whatever the hell it was the Felix and Jisung were doing. Seungmin stood up and started to shuffle over, and Chan turned back to Minho.

"Would you mind running to grab Bin from the studio? He should be pretty much done," he asked. "Then we should have everyone. Well, almost. The other two should be here around 7. But we should start without them, I think."

The "other two" in question were Jeongin and Hyunjin, who hadn't been seen since five am. Both boys had had to leave early for school for a last-minute rehearsal for their afternoon showcase at their high school, so they had dragged themselves out the door much earlier than normal. Literally dragged themselves- Chan didn't think their feet left the ground once the entire morning. They looked like the walking dead. He hoped it was just exhaustion- the two SOPA students had been putting in double-time between their showcase and their regular practice schedules. And he already had one sick band mate on his hands.

Seungmin's condition had been off for a few days- that much was obvious. He had been struggling in vocal practice and clumsier in their dance practice, and he was tired all the time. He had also been abnormally stroppy, throwing attitude around left and right. He had been scolded more in the last four days than he had in the last month, easily.

Chan had approached him multiple times to ask him how he was feeling, the most recent being this morning when he thought he saw a pained grimace flicker across the younger's face, but Seungmin had brushed him off every time. But the boy was obviously getting more ill, and Chan would be damned if he let his members work themselves sick. Some may call him a hypocrite.

"How are you feeling, Seungmo?" He asked, standing up as the younger approached him. The younger really was looking worse- his cheeks were flushed and the dark circles under his eyes had gotten worse.

"Fine, Hyung," Seungmin said. His voice was tired. And really, how did this kid think he was fooling anyone?

"Fine, huh?" Chan said, raising his eyebrow. "You don't look fine to me."

"Gee, thanks," Seungmin said. "Not all of us can be visuals."

"Don't be snarky," Chan scolded mildly. "I'm serious. You look like death warmed over in the microwave. Go home and rest."

"No, I'm okay," Seungmin said.

"You're sick, Min."

"No I'm not."

"You are," Chan countered, not giving the younger any room to budge, reaching his hand up up to feel the boy's forehead and inwardly rolling his eyes when it was instantly batted away. "You're spacey and you look like you're coming down with a fever. You need rest. Go home."

"I don't have a fever and I'm not going home!" Seungmin argued, crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders.

"Yes you are," Chan said.

"No I'm not."

Chan sighed frustratedly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes, you are. I’m calling Manager-Hyung, pack your bags.” 

"No you’re not," Seungmin said icily. "I'm not going home."

"Watch your tone," Chan said, glancing up from his messaging app. "I don't care if you're sick, you still need to respect your Hyungs".

"Oh, for- I'm not sick!" Seungmin snapped, throwing his hands in the air.

"Oh, Really? That makes it even worse then," Chan retorted, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms. He watched the frustration flash across younger vocalist's face as he realized that he had been backed into a corner, forced to choose between admitting he was sick (which he was adamant he didn't want to do for some reason) or being scolded and potentially punished (pretty much his least favourite thing in the world). He stared the younger down. Seungmin could be stubborn when he wanted to be, but he was no match for Chan. Not when Chan could read him so well.

But the half-frustrated, half-defiant look on Seungmin's face didn't disappear, so Chan tugged him closer and landed smarting finger flick to his forehead, right between his eyes to knock some sense into him. Realistically, the boy probably deserved more for his attitude (this wasn't the first time he’d had to talk to him about it today), but he was also still ill, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and Chan didn't want to overdo it. It seemed to have gotten his point across regardless; he didn't miss how the younger tried to bite back a whimper. He added "headache" to his mental catalogue of Seungmin's symptoms to address that later, when his patient was more cooperative. In the meantime, he could deal with the situation at hand.

He batted Seungmin's hand away when the boy reached up to rub the sting away.

"Apologize," he said. Seungmin blinked sullenly. 

"Sorry, Hyung," he mumbled.

"Like you mean it."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Channie-Hyung," Seungmin said, cheeks tinged pink as they often did when he got scolded.

"Apology accepted," Chan said, pulling out his phone as it buzzed. "Now I’m taking you home. Manager-hyung will be here in a few minutes."

"Wha- But-" Seungmin stammered, gaping at Chan as the leader turned away to talk to Minho and Changbin, who had just entered the room, effectively ending the conversation.

"Pack up your things," Chan called over his shoulder. "We don't want to keep Manager-nim waiting."

Seungmin huffed and sulked over to pick up his dance bag, throwing his things into it haphazardly in a decidedly un-Seungmin-like manner, before joining Chan at the door.

"Seungmin and I are going," Chan called across the room. "You lot listen to Minho. We'll see you at home."

Their dorm was not that far from the JYP building, usually. At night, when they were usually driving home, it took 10-15 minutes to drive. But during rush hour in Seoul, 15 minutes easily became 40. By the time their manager had pulled into the parking garage beneath the building, Seungmin had already almost completely spaced out. Their manager looked at him through the rear view mirror.

"You're really not looking so good," he said.

"'M fine, Hyung’s just overreacting," Seungmin sighed. Chan elbowed him in warning.

"But thank you for your concern, Manager-nim" Seungmin added quickly. Their manager looked at him skeptically, and Chan rolled his eyes at the boy's stroppy attitude.

"Thanks for the ride, Hyung," he said, nudging Seungmin out of the car, grabbing both their bags as he climbed out after the boy. "I’ll keep you posted on how he's feeling." He shooed Seungmin in the direction of the elevators.

"He's stubborn when he's tired, isn't he?" Their manager asked, shooting Chan a knowing look.

"Very," Chan snorted. "You know how much he hates not being able to get things done."

Their manager nodded, sighing. "I will never understand why all eight of you feel the need to run yourselves into the ground all the time. You're not even close to a comeback right now!" He groused, but Chan could hear the fondness in his tone. He shrugged and shot the older man a sheepish grin.

Their manager chuckled and turned to glance out the window. Chan followed his gaze to find Seungmin leaning against the wall by the elevators, sulking. He groaned.

"He's going to make this as difficult as possible for me," he said, eliciting another fond huff of laughter from the manager.

"I know you have it under control," he said. "But if you need backup, give me a call. I can give him another lecture about being unprofessional to get him to cooperate, he hates that."

Chan snorted. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, bowing in thanks as he closed the door. He waved and bowed again in farewell as their manager pulled away, making his way over to Seungmin, dragging him onto the elevator. The two of them didn't say a word until Chan unlocked the door to their dorm and all but pushed the boy inside.

"Go shower and get changed," Chan said, as soon as Seungmin's shoes were off. He watched as the younger sulked off to do as we was told. Hopefully. He sighed and stooped down to neaten up the shoes in the entry before wandering into his room to retrieve a thermometer.

The minute Seungmin shuffled into the living room, ruffling his hair with a towel, Chan pounced on him, wrestling him down onto the couch. He grimaced as Chan brandished the thermometer in his face.

"Hyung!" He whined. "That's not necessary!"

"It is," Chan said. "You're obviously not going to admit you're sick on your own."

"Because I'm fine," Seungmin groaned.

"Then your temperature should prove it," Chan said with finality, popping the thermometer into Seungmin's mouth. "Put it under your tongue."

Seungmin scowled, pushing the thermometer around with his tongue. Chan nodded with satisfaction, leaning back in his seat next to Seungmin, who glowered at him until the thermometer beeped. Chan reached to grab it, but Seungmin was quicker. He pulled the thermometer from his mouth and clicked the reset button without so much as hazarding a glance at it.

"36.5. I'm _fine_."

He tossed the thermometer on the couch irreverently and crossed his arms, extremely satisfied with himself if the the smug look on his face was anything to go by. Chan felt his annoyance from earlier flare back up.

"Kim Seungmin," he growled. "I know you did not just try to _lie to me_ about your temperature."

Seungmin let out a startled meep as Chan pulled him up by his arm and hauled him off to the corner of the room.

"You can come out when you're ready to cooperate and admit you're sick," he said.

"Hyung!" Seungmin whined, trying to turn around, only to be pushed back.

"I'll be back to check in a few minutes. Call if you need me," Chan said, lacing his voice with just enough 'try me and suffer' to make the younger stay put.

He left Seungmin sulking in the corner to go throw their dance clothes in the washing machine (he would start it later when the other members had added theirs, but he didn't want to forget). He then checked the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to see that they were well-stocked in all medications. If Seungmin was down, it was only a matter of time before it spread throughout the dorm.

After reassuring himself that they had enough cold and flu medication to sedate a small army and that their Tylenol wasn't expired, he returned to the living room, where Seungmin had propped himself up against the wall. He cleared his throat, and Seungmin jumped about a foot in the air, before standing up straighter.

"Are you ready to admit you're sick yet?" Chan asked casually.

"But I'm not!" Seungmin protested.

"That's a no then," Chan said. "Have it your way."

"Hyung-" Seungmin started, but Chan ignored him in favour of making his way to the kitchen to take stock of their food supply. He had sent Hyunjin out grocery shopping the previous day out of sheer desperation- none of the Hyungs was available and they needed real food ASAP, but he wasn't stupid enough to trust that Hyunjin would shop responsibly.

Their snack cupboard was currently teeming with TimTams and other Australian treats, as Felix had received a care package recently, and their designated ramen cupboard was full and had everybody's favourites. After taking full inventory of the kitchen and texting Minho to pick up some vegetables on the way home (Chan was going to _have words_ with Hyunjin later for "forgetting" all the vegetables on the grocery list), he returned to the living room once more.

"Are you ready to try again?" He asked casually.

"Hyung you're being unreasonable," Seungmin whined, moving to turn around and face the elder.

"What's unreasonable is the fact that you're still trying to _lie to me_. Turn back around."

And so it continued. Chan would flit in and out if the main room, tidying up as he went, and Seungmin would mutter or complain, only to be reminded that he wasn't leaving until he admitted he was sick and "at this rate, Min, the others will be home before you finally decide to start cooperating."

Over half an hour later, Chan grudgingly had to admit that he was impressed by Seungmin's willpower, even when he was sick. He had taken to reclining on the couch, playing around on his phone and systematically ignoring the sulking puppy in the corner, until he heard a resigned sigh. He looked up as Seungmin fidgeted nervously in the corner, but kept quiet, waiting for Seungmin to speak first.

"Hyung?" Came the timid call after another minute. Chan could hear the change in tone a mile away. That was Seungmin's trademark 'I'm-feeling-unsure-of-myself-and-require-Hyung-Comfort' tone. Chan smiled fondly in spite of himself.

"Yes, Seungminnie?" He called gently. "Are you ready?"

Seungmin nodded, and even from his spot on the couch, Chan could see that he was feeling worse. He was wrapping his arms around himself tightly and had pretty much given up on standing up straight, instead slumping against the wall.

"Okay. Let's hear it," Chan said, standing up and walking over to join him. Seungmin turned around, wall still supporting his weight and looked up at him with pleading eyes, lip wobbling slightly.

"Uh-uh," Chan said, albeit with less bite than he would normally use to scold a stubborn dongsaeng. "You're not leaving until I hear you admit it." Seungmin's breath hitched, tears threatening to spill as he continued to look up at the elder. Chan cooed inwardly when he saw the faint tremor in Seungmin's shoulders.

"Fine!" The younger cried. "I'm sick and I'm miserable and it's messing everything up but admitting it is going to make it ten times worse and _I don't have the time for this_ , I have too many things to do and-"

"Whoa, whoa, _easy_ ," Chan interjected, grabbing the younger's shoulders. "Breathe, Minnie. Everything will be okay. Come here."

He hugged Seungmin tightly and rubbed the boy's back as he whimpered.

"Come on," he murmured. "Let's get you comfortable."

He guided the younger boy over to the couch, before pulling him down to sit in his lap. Seungmin continued to sniffle, occasionally reaching up to wipe his eyes, not saying a word for several minutes. It was Chan who eventually broke the silence.

"Why are you so stubborn today, Min?" He asked gently. "Why were you so against admitting you were sick?"

"I couldn't afford to admit defeat," Seungmin said sullenly, leaning further into Chan’s hug.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chan asked. "If you're sick you should rest so it doesn't get worse and keep you down for longer."

"It doesn't work that way," Seungmin muttered. Chan looked at him, utterly perplexed.

"That's exactly how it works," he said slowly.

"Not for me," Seungmin pouted. "If I work through it and pretend it's not there it doesn't get as bad and it goes away faster. As soon as I admit I'm sick I feel ten times worse and my body shuts down."

"Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that's your body's way of telling you to give it a rest and let it heal?" Chan asked gently.

"I don't have _time_ to wait to heal right now," Seungmin whined. "I still haven't gotten the new songs right that we're supposed to record next week, Sungie needs me to sing the guide for a new track, I have an English test on Thursday and an essay due Monday and-"

"And all of that can wait until you're healthy again," Chan said. "Really. You've already made so much progress on the recordings, but now you need to rest your voice. Sungie doesn't need those guides right this second, those are just pet projects of his, not actual work stuff. And all of that will sound so much better when your voice is recovered, anyways. And your English is already great, you don't need to study till crazy hours to prep for it. That's probably what got you sick in the first place."

He ran his fingers through the younger's hair, subtly feeling the boy's forehead and frowning slightly at the heat that radiated off it. 

"Being sick is such an inconvenience," Seungmin whined, ignoring the hand on his forehead. "I hate it."

Chan snorted at that.

"That's not why most people hate it," he said. "Most people hate it because it makes them feel gross and causes them pain."

"That too," Seungmin mumbled, leaning into Chan’s ministrations as the elder continued to play with his hair. Chan hummed.

"So are you ready to tell Hyung what's really ailing you? You know. Since you've already admitted illness and are going to be stuck with it anyways?"

"Don't tease me," Seungmin groused. "It's the truth."

"It's a psychological trick that you're playing on yourself because you refuse to slow down and rest," Chan retorted. "Now tell Hyung what hurts."

Seungmin's pout became more pronounced.

"My throat," he admitted eventually. Chan hummed.

"And your head?" He guessed. Seungmin looked up at him, surprised.

"...Yeah," he said. "It's a migraine, I think. Lights hurt and I keep seeing black spots."

"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning when I asked you if you were ok this morning?" Chan tutted. Seungmin blushed.

"I was fine!" He said. "I took painkillers! They just... hadn't kicked in yet."

"Minnie!" Chan sighed. "What else hurts?"

"Nothing."

"Your stomach's okay?"

Seungmin shrugged noncommittally.

"For now," He said after a beat. "I'm just not hungry right now."

Chan hummed. He wasn't entirely convinced it would stay that way, but decided to give Seungmin the benefit of the doubt.

"Tell me if that changes," he said as he reached for the discarded thermometer. He held it up to Seungmin's mouth again. Seungmin complied willingly this time, and Chan monitored him carefully to make sure the device stayed under his tongue until it beeped, although he didn't anticipate any further resistance. He pulled it out and glanced at it.

"38.5," he murmured. "Not too awful yet."

"Don't say it like that," Seungmin whined. "That makes it sound like it'll get worse."

"You already look worse than earlier, Min," Chan said gently. "I can't believe you were seriously going to keep practicing like this. You would have collapsed or something."

Seungmin huffed, but it turned into a cough. And another. And another three after that. After his body was done trying to expel a lung, Seungmin looked up at Chan with a glare.

"This is your fault," he whined.

"How so?" Chan asked, amused.

"You made me admit I was sick. Now I can't stop coughing. See? _It's true_."

Chan laughed good-naturedly.

"Either that or you've been holding in your coughs all day to hide them and your lungs decided they were done," he said knowingly, rubbing the boy's arm. "I'm gonna make you some tea."

Seungmin grimaced, thunking his head against Chan’s shoulder.

"I'm not hungry."

"Tea isn't food."

"But it makes you feel full."

Chan snorted. "You're impossible," he muttered, smoothing the boy's hair down to show that he wasn't mad at him. He shifted Seungmin off his lap, gently pushing him to lie down on the couch. He grabbed the blanket that someone had left bunched up on the couch the previous night (he was pretty sure it was Jeongin's but you could never be too sure) and laid it over him, then got up and went to go make tea. He shuffled through their coffee and tea cupboard before he found the ginger tea he was looking for, hoping that it would soothe Seungmin's stomach before it had a chance to turn into a legitimate stomach ache. He mixed in a generous heaping of yuja and honey, then brought it over to the invalid, who had spaced out again. Chan frowned as he noticed Seungmin's tremor become more pronounced.

"Oh, Minnie," he sighed in sympathy. "Come here, sit up for Hyung."

Seungmin propped himself up sluggishly and took the tea offered him.

"Do you want more meds?" Chan asked.

Seungmin nodded.

"What have you taken today?"

"Just Advil," Seungmin yawned.

Chan hummed.

"When did you last take them?"

"Just before practice."

Chan nodded.

"I'll grab you some Tylenol, then," he said. "It's too soon for more Advil. Do you need cough drops?"

Seungmin shook his head. "We only have the cherry ones. They're gross."

"Picky, picky," Chan tsk'd, brushing Seungmin's bangs out of his face.

"They're really awful, Hyung," Seungmin said with such earnestness that Chan almost melted on the spot.

"I'll ask Minho to pick up the honey lemon ones on the way home," he said, standing up and brushing off his knees.

"Thanks, Hyung," Seungmin mumbled around the rim of his mug. Chan smiled his acknowledgment and went to the bathroom to retrieve the Tylenol, he returned to the living room, popping two pills into his hands and dumping them into the younger singer's palm. Seungmin threw them back and swallowed them dry.

"You have a beverage _right there_ ," Chan said pointedly, gesturing to the mug in Seungmin's other hand. Seungmin shrugged, but brought the mug up to his lips to chase down the pills with no fight. Chan sighed resignedly and sat down next to the other. Seungmin immediately cuddled into his side, and Chan leaned over to kiss his temple.

"Finish your tea," he said kindly. Seungmin nodded, taking another gulp. They sat like that for some time, Chan quietly sitting on his phone and rubbing Seungmin's thigh comfortingly as the sick boy sipped absently at his tea. Eventually, Seungmin started to doze off, and Chan quickly rescued the not-quite-empty-mug before it dropped to the floor. He set it to the side before tilting Seungmin sideways, laying him back down on the couch and once more covering him up with the blanket. He then got up and decided to get a head start on making dinner. Well, what he _could_ get started on in the absence of all fresh vegetables, _Hyunjin_.

Halfway through prepping the marinade for that night's menu of Bulgogi (they had enough meat to feed a multigenerational family of fifteen, or alternatively, enough for him plus all of his kids), he was distracted by a whimper coming from the other room. He paused.

"You okay, Minnie?" He called gently.

"Hyung?" Came the reply. It sounded tearful. Throwing aside the marinade, Chan rushed to the living room.

"I'm here," He said. "What is it, Love?"

"'M dizzy," Seungmin whimpered. "Feel sick."

"Oh, Baby," Chan cooed. "Is it your head or your stomach?"

"Both."

"Do you feel like..." Chan trailed off.

"Maybe."

"Okay. I'm going to go grab you a bucket," Chan said. "Will you be ok for a minute?"

"Mhm."

Chan landed a quick kiss to the boy's forehead before darting down the hall to the laundry room to grab a bucket. He returned in record time and carefully sat down next to the boy, placing the bucket at Seungmin's feet. "Close your eyes and put your head between your knees," he said softly. "Sometimes that helps with motion sickness."

Seungmin folded himself over, wrapping his arms around his legs. Chan rubbed his back soothingly as his breath hitched. "Breathe, Minnie, deep breaths," he murmured. Seungmin inhaled shakily.

"Good. Keep breathing. If it's supposed to happen it will happen." They stayed like that for several minutes, Seungmin using Chan as his grounding force until the room stopped spinning.

"Think 'm okay now, Hyung," Seungmin said weakly, once the dizzy spell had past.

"Are you okay to sit up?" Chan asked.

Seungmin nodded, and Chan helped him into the sitting position. His face was red from all the blood that had rushed to his brain while he was upside down and he still looked absolutely _wretched_.

"Poor Baby," Chan murmured as Seungmin slumped against his side. Seungmin sniffled.

"The others will be home soon, Love," Chan said apologetically. "And they're probably going to be loud. Do you want to go lie down in your room so they don't disturb you as much?"

Seungmin nodded weakly, and clumsily tried to stand up.

"Whoa, easy!" Chan said, catching Seungmin as he stumbled. "Here, Hyung will carry you." He easily swooped down and lifted the other up, carrying him koala-style to his room. He thanked his lucky stars that Seungmin had managed to snag the single bed in the room, he didn't feel like trying to navigate around a bunk bed.

Once Seungmin was settled in his bed, bucket within reach just in case, Chan washed his hands and returned to preparing dinner as best he could with half the ingredients still missing. (Seriously. Not a _single vegetable_!)

Soon enough, he heard the front door open and the telltale sounds of multiple bodies scrambling into the entryway. He put his spatula down and stormed out of the kitchen, hands on his hips in preparation for the earful he was ready to give his dongsaeng.

"Hwang Hyunjin," he said, saccharinely sweet, approaching the entryway like a predator approaching its unsuspecting prey. "Would you care to explain to me why- Oh, _Jinnie!_ " 

The younger looked a _mess_. He had obvious tear tracks running down his face, and looked about two seconds away from crumpling to the floor in defeat. He was being half-supported by Changbin. 

"Hyung," Hyunjin whimpered pitifully as Changbin helped him remove his jacket. Chan shot the rapper a questioning look.

"Practice was rough," Changbin said sheepishly, and Chan had to roll his eyes at the boy’s non-answer.

"Come here, Jin," he said, not dignifying Changbin with a response. "What's wrong?"

"Everything hurts," The lanky boy sniffled, flopping into Chan’s arms. Chan frowned and brought his hand up to feel Hyunjin's forehead, making a noise of sympathy when his hand made contact with the hot and sticky forehead.

"Looks like we've got another one," Chan sighed, ruffling Hyunjin's hair, before ushering the two rappers out of the entryway.

"Uh-uh," Changbin said grimly. "Not one."

Chan turned his head, poised to question the main rapper when the front door was slammed opened once again, revealing a slightly panicked-looking Jisung, veritably bogged down with dance bags and grocery bags and seemingly on a mission. Chan opened his mouth to scold the younger on instinct but was beaten out by Minho. Chan heard the dancer before he saw him.

"For god's sakes, Sung, you're going to leave a dent in the wall-"

The main dancer emerged not three steps behind their resident squirrel, Felix right by his side, holding a probably-newly-empty plastic grocery bag up to Jeongin, whose limbs were wrapped around Minho’s torso in a miserable mockery of a koala in a tree. The maknae gagged and shuddered in the dancer’s hold.

 _Jaenjang_.


	4. The Deciding Match Pt. 1: Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Hyunjin and Jisung just can't seem to get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from the perspective of Hyunjin, and the next is from Jisung's. There are overlaps in the dialogue, but I thought it would be neat to see the same fight from two perspectives. 
> 
> WARNING: Implied spanking in this chapter (but I didn't actually write it) and it's a little cuss-heavy. 
> 
> PS: Stream GO LIVE because every song is a BOP ^^

_"Focus more on your dance!"_

_"Focus more on your rap!"_

Hyunjin saw red. He took a step towards Jisung, ready to lay into him for probably the fifth time that practice. Jisung had been screwing up the same move all practice and it was _pissing him off_. He opened his mouth to let loose some poetic line about Jisung not being the golden boy he thought he was, but was cut off by a sharp "That's enough!" from their dance teacher. He whirled around to face her.

"All of you, front and centre. Line up."

He shuffled into line with the other eight members, and somehow he ended up next to Chan. He really hoped the leader wouldn't reach up and strangle him.

"Stop fighting and get your act together," the teacher scolded. "Your chemistry is all wrong and it's bleeding into your dance. You're in a competitive field, you can't afford to let petty fights and differences affect you like that." And okay, that was a fair point.

"You all need to get everything off your chests. One at a time, you're going to step out and if you have any grievances, bring them up now so we can get back to the dance and you can stop wasting my time and your own."

"I'll start," Chan said from beside him. "I think that as a team we need to be more patient with each other- myself included. We are all going through hard times, and I think we all need to remember that everyone around us has troubles too. And I think we all need to remember that we're on the same team."

Hyunjin felt the first coils of real shame curl in his gut at those words- those were directed at him. Chan had been charitable in not singling him out, but he knew that his relationship with Jisung was a stressor for the leader. Just last week, Chan had pulled him aside and and rebuked him for it, after having to physically restrain him during an altercation with the other 00 rapper. Since that conversation (and the accompanying threat of _serious consequences_ if they tried to physically fight each other again), Hyunjin had been at least trying to reign in his anger, to varying degrees of success.

Today was one of the days where he was having less success. He could admit to that. Bearing that in mind, he took a deep breath and steeled himself to apologize as Chan stepped back to stand beside him once again. He stepped forward. _Time to rip of the bandaid._

"I'm sorry everyone for interrupting dance practice and for letting my emotions get the best of me," he started, sending a quick glance around the room but too much of a coward to actually make eye contact with anyone. "Jisung, I'm sorry I fought with you. I will try to be better about not taking my frustration out on you. Please be patient with me." He looked down at his feet, somehow working up the courage to look up at Chan, who smiled encouragingly at him. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Jisung, you next," The choreographer said. Hyunjin glanced up again as Jisung reluctantly stepped forward.

"There's one member in our group that really gets on my nerves," the other boy started and Hyunjin felt his own annoyance flare up again. He had been mature about this situation (well, besides when he had started the fight five minutes ago, but he had at least owned up to it), so _why couldn't Jisung?_

"I wish he would stop thinking he knows better than me and telling me what to do all the time," Jisung continued haughtily. "That member should mind his own business and see his own faults before he looks at the ones he thinks are mine."

And suddenly, Hyunjin felt like crying. He was well aware of his own shortcomings in this group, thank you very much. He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting to regain control of his own emotions, before realizing that that wasn't going to happen.So he did the only thing he could think of and turned on his heel, storming out of the practice room. He heard Chan calling his name and somebody else was yelling, but he ignored both in in favour of _getting the hell_ _out of the room_ before Jisung saw him cry.

Once he found himself in the relative safety and privacy of the men's bathroom, he let out a shaky breath and willed himself to not do something stupid like upend the trash bin in the corner. He hastily wiped the tears from his eyes.

The door to the bathroom swung open.

"Hey."

Great. Literally _the last person_ Hyunjin wanted to see.

"Piss off," he said eloquently, turning away from Jisung, who was still hovering in the doorway.

"I would if I could but choreographer-nim made me come and see you." Jisung closed the door behind him.

"Well, you came. You saw. You can leave."

But Jisung didn't leave. Instead, he came and stood next to Hyunjin.

"They're going to ask us if we resolved things," He said casually.

"Then say we did," Hyunjin retorted. "I don't care." Jisung nodded as they lapsed into awkward silence, and Hyunjin hastily wiped away the new tears that were threatening to fall.

"Do... Do you think we can even debut together? Is it even possible?" He asked after a minute.

Jisung looked up at him, then turned away defensively. "It'll have to be. We don't have a choice. Unless you want to drop out, because I'm not going to."

"Me neither," Hyunjin said. And he wouldn't. Not when he was _so close_ to proving that he could make it.

"So... Now what?" Jisung asked.

"Let's just ignore each other. Stay out of each other's way. I think that will be best," Hyunjin sighed.

"Okay," Jisung said.

"Okay," Hyunjin replied.

"So... Dance practice?" Jisung said nonchalantly, indicating the door.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Hyunjin said.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Hyunjin followed Jisung out the door.

When the Chan and the choreographer pulled them aside at the end of practice to confirm that they had resolved things, they had both lied through their teeth about coming up with a solution and resolving their differences. The choreographer seemed satisfied, but Chan had narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

He had been right to be suspicious, Hyunjin thought sheepishly, when he and Jisung were caught on the verge of physically fighting again three days later. To be fair, Jisung had started it this time, drinking the rest of Hyunjin's water bottle and throwing it at his head. He was just defending himself, but somehow he didn't think Chan was going to go for that excuse. Hyunjin had never seen Chan _this mad_ before.

"Are you _kidding me?_ "

Hyunjin jumped as the door slammed open and Chan stormed towards them.

"It's only been _three days_ you guys!" He had yelled. Hyunjin flinched.

"Hyung-" Jisung said, But was cut off.

"Save it," Chan barked. "Come with me." And Hyunjin was _not_ about to fan the flames. He exchanged a grimace with Jisung in a rare moment of solidarity and scurried after the leader. Chan led them to one of the recording rooms on the 4th floor, ushering them in before closing and locking the door behind him.

"Guys, what the hell!" Chan growled as he turned to face them. Hyunjin could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Chan was _really scary_.

"Are you two even trying to get along?" He demanded, and Hyunjin fought to be heard over Jisung as he tried to explain-

"Hyung, he started it-"

"No, he started it, he threw a water bottle at me-"

"I'm at least trying-"

"Oh, and I'm not?"

"SHUT UP!" Chan yelled and Hyunjin winced. "I don't give a damn about what you were fighting about or who started it or anything! I only care about the fact that you two are _still not trying to get along!_ Are you that determined to hate each other that you're willing to drag down the entire group? How could you be so selfish?!"

Hyunjin winced and curled into himself as the Chan continued to rant.

"And think about Minho and Felix. They've worked their _asses off_ to try and make it to debut. They've worked every bit as hard as you and fought for their second chance and you're throwing it in their faces by putting your first chance at risk."

Jisung opened his mouth to say something, and Hyunjin had to admire his bravery (or stupidity) because _he_ definitely wasn't going to try and interrupt their leader. But Chan wasn't done yet apparently.

"And what about me, huh? Do you think this is fair to me? I've worked _too damn hard_ to make sure we all make it to debut for the two of you to throw it away now, so you better get your shit together. Got it?"

Hyunjin was practically shaking on the spot at this point. Was Chan done? Was he going to yell more? _What was going to happen?_ The leader took a slow, calming breath and turned away from him and Jisung, presumably to calm himself down. After what felt like ten minutes of Jisung and Hyunjin standing in awkward silence, too scared to move, he turned back to face them, looking significantly calmer.

"Jisung, go to the Live Room," he said, indicating the door leading to the recording booth. _The live room? Why the live room?_

Jisung looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, but then turned and went through the door indicated without a word or a glance back. Hyunjin turned to Chan for answers, but the elder ignored him in favour of pushing the big red button that connected to the PA system.

"Don't come out till I get you, Sung," the leader had ordered, before taking his hand of the button and turning to Hyunjin.

"Why'd you send him into the live room?" Hyunjin asked.

"I figured you'd appreciate a little privacy for the next part of our conversation," Chan said, sitting down on the couch. Hyunjin looked at the leader, perplexed.

"Come sit, Hyunjin," Chan said, indicating the spot next to him. Hyunjin wordlessly obeyed.

"I think you'd agree that this situation with Jisung has gotten pretty out of hand," Chan said seriously, fixing Hyunjin with a stern look. And yeah, Hyunjin could admit to that. He nodded his agreement.

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you," Chan continued, "but there's obviously some underlying problem that's not going to work itself out until the two of you communicate."

Hyunjin nodded again.

"The managers, choreographer-nim and I have all had to talk to the two of you about this in the last week," Chan said. "And it's still not getting any better between you two, so obviously words aren't enough in this case."

Hyunjin blushed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't _mean to_ fight- he just... I don't know."

Chan hummed, and Hyunjin felt his face heat up under the elder's scrutinizing gaze.

"I'll admit I'm a little confused at how little self-control you seem to have when it comes to Jisung," Chan said after a minute. "I know you're capable of more than that, I've seen you apply it in practice. I just don't understand why it's so hard for you to control your temper when he's around."

Chan no longer sounded angry. He sounded disappointed, and that was _so much worse. Dammit! He didn't want to cry again!_

"Hyunjin," Chan said. Hyunjin looked up inquisitively.

"Remember what I said last week? About there being consequences if you two physically fought again?"

Hyunjin licked his lips nervously, but nodded.

"It's time for those consequences," Chan said. Hyunjin nodded in defeat. He had thought as much.

"Am I going to get written up?" He asked, looking up at Chan nervously. He really didn't want to have to go into the office for an official reprimand. Not when they hadn't even debuted yet. _What if they decided he wasn't worth it?_

"No," Chan said. "I wasn't planning to involve the managers at all if I can avoid it. This isn't just a work thing, Hyunjin, this is a relationship thing as well. We're family now."

Hyunjin looked up at him apprehensively. He had _no idea_ where this was going.

"I want you to get over my lap," Chan said and Hyunjin froze.

"You want me to what?" He choked.

"I want you to get over my lap," Chan repeated patiently. "A family punishment for problems within a family."

Hyunjin blinked for a moment.

"Are y-"

"I am serious," Chan said, and how did he read Hyunjin's mind like that? Chan must have noticed his confusion, because he sniffed a fond grin.

"I've already had this same conversation three times," he said by way of explanation. Hyunjin's eyes widened.

"You've already-?" He stammered. "With other members?"

Chan nodded.

"The ones who were comfortable enough with me," he said. "Realistically I should have tried this with you a while ago, but I wanted to give you time to settle into the group first."

Chan probably hadn't intended it to come across that way, but Hyunjin felt the knife in his gut twist a little more at that. _Thanks for reminding me that I'm the odd one out here._

"It's really not that different from the other scoldings we give you," Chan said, seemingly mistaking his silence for embarrassment. Which, honestly, was a very fair assumption. "Just think of it as a level up from the finger flick."

"That's a really big level-up," Hyunjin squeaked, and Chan laughed. "Relax," he said. "Do you trust me?"

And really, Hyunjin did. And he also had something to prove now. He was just as much family as the rest of them. He belonged. _He had to belong_. So he nodded, squeezed his eyes shut and moved to lean over Chan's lap.

Chan grabbed his arm to stall him.

"Hyunjin," he said gently. Hyunjin looked up, confused. Isn't this what Chan meant when he said lay over?

"Are you okay with this?" Chan asked. "If you're not comfortable, it's okay. I can take you to the managers instead."

"No," Hyunjin said quickly. "I- This is okay."

"Are you sure?" Chan pressed. Hyunjin nodded.

"I'm sure."

"Okay."

 _Ow_. He should never have agreed to that. Damn his pride and his inherent desire to prove he fit in. Now that all was said and done and he was curled up in Chan's lap trying to stop the flood of tears, he was seriously wondering whether being written up would have been the better option. He told Chan as much, and the leader's reaction offended him greatly.

"Don't laugh at me," he whined. "That was _awful_."

"I went easy on you, Hyunjin," Chan retorted, but his hand never stopped running through Hyunjin's hair soothingly and Hyunjin couldn't deny that it felt nice. "You're just being dramatic."

"I'm not," Hyunjin argued.

"You kicked me five times and tried to roll off my lap at least three," Chan said. "I'd say that's a pretty gross over exaggeration."

"That's called self-preservation instincts, Hyung. _That hurt_."

"I'm sure it did, Hyunjinnie," Chan said. "Hopefully you'll remember that the next time you decide to let a petty fight go so far as to affect the whole group."

And great, there was the guilt again. He felt the tears threatening to flow once again.

"I really am sorry, Hyung," he whispered. "I'll try to be better."

"Good," Chan said. "I'm going to hold you to that."

Hyunjin nodded into Chan's shoulder, and allowed Chan to continue comforting him with the hand in his hair.

"Hey," Chan said gently. "Are you really okay?"

Hyunjin looked up blankly.

"With what just happened," Chan clarified. "I know it's a huge step, and I didn't want to push you into things too quickly, if you're not comfortable."

Right. Because he was the odd one out. The weak link. The one at risk of losing it all because he couldn't fucking be likeable.

"I'm fine, Hyung," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "Can I go home now? I'm tired."

Chan frowned. Hyunjin hoped it was with concern.

"Are you sure?" The leader asked hesitantly. Hyunjin nodded, and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"Okay," Chan said reluctantly. "But if you need me come find me, yeah? Just... maybe wait bit so I can chat with Sung?"

Hyunjin nodded, and made to stand up, only to be pulled back into one last hug.

"You took that well," Chan murmured, before letting him go. "I'll see you at home, yeah?"

Hyunjin nodded, leaving the studio.

He didn't make it home. He barely made it to the back stairwell before the tears came again. Sobbing, he slid down the wall and buried his face in his knees. _He was going to lose his chance. He had worked so hard and he was going to lose it all_.

He had no idea how long he was sitting there, crying and staring blankly in alternate intervals, but he was startled from his wallowing when the door to the stairwell was thrown open. He froze, hoping beyond all hope that he would go unnoticed in the corner. That was a thing, right? If you were below eye level people were less likely to see you?

 _"...Hyunjin?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out Pt. 2 for Sung's side of the story! Sorry if this is a little angst-heavy, I go where the muse takes me ;) 


	5. The Deciding Match Pt. 2: Sung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Hyunjin and Jisung just can't seem to get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Pt. 2 from the perspective of Jisung (and a little Chan thrown in at the end to wrap things up nicely)! All warnings from Pt. 1 still apply here (mentions of spanking, lots of cussing). 
> 
> Enjoy~! ^^

_"Focus more on your dance!"_

_"Focus more on your rap!"_

_"That's enough!_ "

Jisung turned so fast he felt a twinge in his neck. Their choreographer did _not sound happy_. Oops.

"All of you, front and centre. Line up."

Jisung allowed himself to be pulled further down the line away from Hyunjin. He was now stood between Minho and Changbin, who were both giving him weird looks.

"Stop fighting and get your act together," the teacher scolded. "Your chemistry is all wrong and it's bleeding into your dance. You're in a competitive field, you can't afford to let petty fights and differences affect you like that."

Yikes. Okay, that was pretty true. But this wasn't his fault.

"You all need to get everything off your chests. One at a time, you're going to step out and if you have any grievances, bring them up now so we can get back to the dance and you can stop wasting my time and your own."

"I'll start," Chan said, like the leader he was. "I think that as a team we need to be more patient with each other- myself included. We are all going through hard times, and I think we all need to remember that everyone around us has troubles too. And I think we all need to remember that we're on the same team."

He stepped back in line, and Hyunjin stepped out. "I'm sorry everyone for interrupting dance practice and for letting my emotions get the best of me. Jisung, I'm sorry I fought with you. I will try to be better about not taking my frustration out on you. Please be patient with me," he said, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers. He stepped back in line and looked hesitantly up at Chan, who smiled encouragingly in return. Why was Chan smiling at Hyunjin? _This was Hyunjin's fault!_

"Jisung, you next," The dance teacher ordered. He stepped forward sullenly. If they thought he was going to apologize when Hyunjin had started the fight, they were _crazy_.

"There's one member in our group that really gets on my nerves," he started. "I wish he would stop thinking he knows better than me and telling me what to do all the time. That member should mind his own business and see his own faults before he looks at the ones he thinks are mine."He stepped back in line, feeling a smug sense satisfaction, only to have it quashed seconds later as Hyunjin ran from the room.

"Han Jisung!" Changbin yelled at him, and it mixed with Chan's concerned calls in the direction of Hyunjin's retreating form. "What was that?!"

"Jisung, that was really rude," Chan joined in the scolding. "Hyunjin didn't deserve that."

Jisung looked up nervously, and winced when he caught the choreographer's disapproving gaze.

"Go apologize," she ordered. "You're not welcome back in practice until you've made things right with him."

He nodded and shuffled out the door. He didn't know where Hyunjin was, exactly, but he figured the bathroom was as good a place to start his search as any. He was right. 

"Hey," he said, leaning against the door in a way he hoped appeared nonchalant.

"Piss off."

"I would if I could but choreographer-nim made me come and see you."

"Well, you came. You saw. You can leave."

And Jisung wanted _so badly_ to leave it at that, but Chan-Hyung was going to be following up, and Jisung did _not_ want to face Chan's wrath when the elder found out he hadn't done as he was told. Might as well get this over with.

"They're going to ask us if we resolved things," he said casually.

"Then say we did," Hyunjin retorted. "I don't care." Jisung nodded as they lapsed into awkward silence.

He jumped as Hyunjin spoke up beside him. "Do... Do you think we can even debut together? Is it even possible?"

He glanced at the other, then looked away, crossing his arms. "It'll have to be. We don't have a choice. Unless you want to drop out, because I'm not going to."

"Me neither," Hyunjin said. Jisung nodded slowly and licked his lips. This conversation was too awkward.

"So... Now what?" He asked after another minute of painful silence.

"Let's just ignore each other. Stay out of each other's way. I think that will be best," Hyunjin sighed, and frankly, Jisung couldn't think of any alternative plan.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," Hyunjin replied.

"So... Dance practice?" Jisung said nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Their truce lasted all of three days. In Jisung's defence, Hyunjin had started it, implying that Jisung had stolen his water bottle when he definitely hadn't. It had definitely been his own empty water bottle that he had thrown and Hyunjin's head. And Hyunjin didn't have to retaliate, either. Just Jisung's luck that Chan had to walk in _right_ as they were fighting, and _shit_. This wasn't looking good, Chan looked _pissed_. Maybe he could do damage control before-

"Are you _kidding me?_ "

Hyunjin jump about a foot in the air beside him and let out a startled yelp.

Or... maybe not. Dammit. Jisung cringed as Chan stormed over to them.

"It's only been _three days_ you guys!" He had yelled. Actually yelled. This was _really not good_.

"Hyung-" He started, rushing to placate the leader.

"Save it," Chan snapped. "Come with me." Jisung shared a helpless look with Hyunjin before scrambling to catch up with the leader.

Chan led them to one of the recording rooms. Jisung recognized it as the one where they had recorded their pieces for District 9. He hoped that whatever went down today wouldn't completely overshadow those nice memories. He followed Hyunjin into the room, and Chan entered after them, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Guys, what the hell!" Chan snarled as he turned to face them. "Are you two even _trying_ to get along?"

Jisung rushed to defend himself. Maybe Chan would go easier on him if he knew this wasn't his fault.

"Hyung, he started it-"

"No, he started it, he threw a water bottle at me-"

"I'm at least trying-"

"Oh, and I'm not?"

"SHUT UP!" Chan roared. Jisung gaped at his fellow producer. _Who was this and what had he done with Chan?_ Their leader could be strict, sure. And he held them all to a really high standard, and his 'stern dad voice' could make Jisung feel guilty just as effectively as that of his actual biological father. But Chan didn't _yell like this._

"I don't give a damn about what you were fighting about or who started it or anything! I only care about the fact that you two are _still not trying to get along!_ Are you _that determined_ to hate each other that you're willing to drag down the entire group? _How could you be so selfish?!_ "

Jisung felt himself blush at the reprimand. Suddenly, his shoes seemed much safer to look at than Chan's eyes.

"-And think about Minho and Felix. They've worked their _asses off_ to try and make it to debut. They've worked every bit as hard as you and fought for their second chance and you're throwing it in their faces by putting your first chance at risk."

Jisung's eyes flew back up at that, and he opened his mouth to protest that because _of course he cared about Minho and Felix_ , but Chan wasn't letting him get a word in edgewise.

"And what about me, huh? Do you think this is fair to me? I've worked _too damn hard_ to make sure we all make it to debut for the two of you to throw it away now, so you better get your shit together. Got it?"

Jisung stared at the leader as he suddenly turned away from them. He stood there, too shocked to move until Chan turned back around a few minutes later, features schooled into a look of determination that Jisung didn't like _at all_.

"Jisung, go to the Live Room," Chan said, indicating the door leading to the recording booth, and Jisung's blood ran cold. He knew _exactly_ why Chan was sending him to the adjacent room. Just like the control room they were currently in, it was completely soundproof, and the large one-way mirror meant that while Chan could keep an eye on _him_ , he wouldn't be able to see a thing that was going on in the control room. Perfect for giving the illusion of privacy, and Jisung did _not_ want to think about why Chan needed privacy for the looming conversation.

He opened his mouth to protest, or placate, or say _something_ , but thought the better of it when he saw the murderous glint in Chan's eye. He fled the room, and Chan closed the door behind him. A few seconds later, the PA system beeped, and Chan's voice sounded through the speakers mounted on the walls.

"Don't come out till I get you, Sung," the leader had ordered. As if Jisung would be stupid enough to try that.

He huffed agitatedly, glaring at his reflection in the one-way mirror. Well, he glared past his reflection, hoping it would project his displeasure at the current situation to Chan and Hyunjin in the control room. Especially Hyunjin, because this was all the others' fault.

The mirror's primary function was to create the illusion of being alone so the artists would perform better on recording (stage fright could be especially scary when the producing team were your only audience), but in this moment it made Jisung feel like a prisoner under observation as he awaited his sentence. Which, he supposed, he kind of was. He groaned and began to pace the moderately-sized room, nearly kicking a microphone stand out of frustration when he tripped over it, but thinking the better of it. He was practically buzzing with nervous energy as the minutes ticked by. _Why was Chan taking so long_?

The door to the live room opened, and Chan popped his head in.

"C'mere, Sung," the elder called. Jisung practically flew out of the room, so desperate to get out of the prison cell, only to end up snagged by Chan's death grip on his arm as the leader spun him around and dragged him to the couch.

"I wasn't tryna run," he muttered, maybe a little belligerently. "I was just sick of the room."

"Really?" Chan asked, eyebrow raised. Jisung nodded.

"I was going crazy in there, Hyung. You took too long."

Chan sniffed.

"Sorry, Sung," he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "I needed to make sure Hyunjin was okay first."

" ** _I_** wasn't okay," Jisung retorted, crossing his arms.

"Really? That's the angle you're going to play right now?" Chan asked him and okay, maybe not his smartest choice of words.

"I- What I meant was-" he stammered. Chan sighed. "Don't make things worse for yourself," he warned. Jisung was going to take that advice to heart.

"So," Chan started. "Do you want to tell me why you two decided that fighting each other was a good idea, when you were explicitly told that it wasn't going to be tolerated anymore?"

"He started it," Jisung rushed to defend himself.

"That's not what I asked," Chan said. "I asked why you decided to disobey me, our choreographer _and_ our managers when we told you to come up with a solution and put an end to the fighting."

And oh. Jisung didn't really have an answer for that.

"Well when you put it like that," he muttered, playing with his fingers nervously.

"Why are you two so determined not to get along, anyways?" Chan asked. He didn't sound mad, he sounded concerned. "You have more in common than you think. I bet you'd be good friends if you'd just give him the chance."

"I don't know," Jisung mumbled. And he really didn't. All he knew was that Hyunjin made him feel insecure somehow and he _didn't like it_. "I guess I just don't like how he always thinks he knows better than me."

"It's funny," Chan said. "He said almost the exact same thing about you."

That surprised him. He had always sorta figured that Hyunjin was a stuck-up know-it-all. He looked up at Chan.

"He's not the enemy here, Sung," Chan said. "You're on the same team. You're going to need to learn to get along."

Jisung licked his lips nervously and nodded. Now that the adrenaline and fight were gone from his system, he could kind of see how things had gotten a little out of control.

"And when you two fight all the time, it doesn't just affect the team. You're _hurting him_ , Sung."

"I'm sorry," Jisung murmured. And he actually was.

"You will be," Chan sighed. "Come here."

Jisung gulped and allowed himself to be manoeuvred over Chan's lap. _This was not going to be fun._

He was right. Not fun. _Decidedly_ not fun. _Ow_. He scrambled to stand as soon as Chan let him up and threw himself into the other producer's open arms, _sobbing_. Chan, like saint of a leader he was, just let him cry himself out, rubbing his back soothingly. "You're okay, Sungie," Chan whispered. "You're okay."

Jisung didn't attempt to speak, just let himself melt into Chan's arms until he managed to calm his breathing. Only then did he look up at the leader.

Chan cooed. "You're a mess," the leader said fondly, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

"That's your fault," Jisung retorted, but the effect was somewhat diminished by the wobble in his voice.

"It's entirely your own fault you ended up in this situation," Chan chastised him lightly. "I gave you several chances to deescalate the situation with Hyunjin over the last few weeks and you chose not to." And yeah, that was true. Doesn't mean he wasn't going to try for sympathy later though.

"I'm sorry," he said, lying his head back on Chan's shoulder.

"I know you are," Chan murmured. "And when you're ready I think there's one more person who's going to need to hear that."

Jisung nodded.

"I will," he promised.

"Good," Chan said, kissing his head. "If you want me to mediate for you while you do just tell me, okay?"

And Jisung thanked the deity that had blessed him with such an incredible leader. He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about how that conversation would go. Maybe having Chan there would make it easier. "Thanks, Hyung," he said. Chan smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

"Anytime, Sung," the leader said. "Why don't you head home now and rest up? I have one last track to finish up here and then I'll come join you, ok?"

Jisung nodded, and climbed out of Chan's lap. Chan held the door open and ruffled his hair one last time. The two parted ways. Chan left in the direction of 3Racha's writing studio, and Jisung went the opposite way towards the stairs.

Normally he would take the elevator, because he was lazy, however today he didn't want to run into anyone, as it was still obvious on his face that he had been crying. Nobody ever used the stairs if they could avoid them. However, when he entered the stairwell, it was already occupied. And _oh_. Chan wasn't kidding when he said Hyunjin was hurt.

"Hyunjin?" He said, hesitantly approaching his band mate, who was sat against the wall, face hiding in his knees. "Are you okay?"

"If you're here to gloat, screw off" Hyunjin snarled into his knees.

"What's there to gloat about?" Jisung asked, sitting down next to him and wincing as he made contact with the ground. "I'm in just as much pain as you are right now."

"Oh, are you?"

"If you're implying that Hyung went easier on me you're wrong," Jisung said flatly. "If anything he went easier on you because he doesn't know you as well and didn't want to scare you away."

Hyunjin laughed bitterly.

"Thanks for reminding me of the fact that you're already in his inner circle," he said sarcastically. "That doesn't rub salt in the wound at all."

"What are you talking about?"Jisung was absolutely perplexed.

"Forget about it," Hyunjin said, turning away.

"No, if you're throwing a pity party I'm crashing. My ass and ego are just as bruised as yours," Jisung said matter-of-factly. It was true, after all.

"You don't even know the half of what I'm going through," Hyunjin snapped, whirling around to face him. "This sucks way more for me than it does for you."

"How so?"

"Because you're not at risk of being kicked out," Hyunjin said. He inhaled shakily. "You were always going to debut. You and Chan-hyung- it was obvious from the beginning. You're already a team. But Me..."

"Are also going to debut with us," Jisung said. "We went through a whole reality show about it, remember?"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and Jisung noticed that it dislodged a few tears that zig-zagged down the dancer's cheeks, like the artsy tears that were used in the filming of music videos. Hyunjin's eyes weren't even swollen and that just _wasn't fair_. Jisung was well aware that he looked like the thugs in the anti-drug videos they made him watch in school when he cried.

"Vividly," Hyunjin said, bringing Jisung back out of his own spite-filled tangent. Stupid Hyunjin and his stupid visuals. "But it's not set in stone yet."

Hyunjin choked out a sob, and Jisung felt a pang on his heart. "And if we can't figure this shit out, it's me that's getting kicked out. I don't even stand a _chance_ against you."

Jisung gaped at the other boy, who was slumped over in defeat, despair written in every line of his body. He opened his mouth to say something comforting (he wasn't sure what to say to that, exactly, but there must be something), but was cut off as Hyunjin continued his rant.

"And it really fucking sucks," Hyunjin said. "To know that if it came down to it, that I can never and will never be able to live up to you and the rep you already have. And it's the fucking worst because I've been fighting for so long to show that I've earned the chance to debut, to show that I'm more than just a visual but I'll never be able to. It sucks that even though I'm debuting I'm still so disposable, and you're not." 

He let out a soft sob, burying his head in his arms once again. It took Jisung a minute to process everything that Hyunjin had just said. Hyunjin had been feeling all that this whole time? _Now he_ ** _really_** _felt like an asshole._ "I'm sorry," he said softly, laying a tentative hand on the dancer's shoulder.

"You're not."

"I am," Jisung insisted. "I had no idea you were feeling all that. I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I never really stopped to think that maybe you were going through some stuff too, and I took a lot out on you because... I just..." Jisung sighed frustratedly, trying to find the words. "I was jealous of you, okay?"

Hyunjin let out a watery laugh.

"Jealous of what?"

"Your looks. Your charisma. Your stage presence."

Hyunjin scoffed.

"It's true," Jisung insisted. "You already had the persona of an idol, even when you first came. You were just effortlessly cool. I didn't- I just- I'm not, okay? There, I said it."

"What do you mean?"

"I just- It took me so long to find a persona that people would take seriously, you know? Like, coaches were always telling me that my stage presence never had direction because I was jumping all over the place. But you, you can just walk in and command the stage without even trying."

"I- I don't..." Hyunjin trailed off, staring at the other boy.

"Plus, you already look like an idol. Your face, I mean. And I thought I was handsome, but... ugh! This is so awkward to say!" Jisung groaned, running his hand down his face in agitation.

"You were jealous because I'm better-looking than you?" Hyunjin smirked through his tears.

"You're not," Jisung said stubbornly. "Your face is just more balanced and symmetrical. I still have prettier eyes."

"You're an idiot," Hyunjin laughed, wiping his nose.

"And you're an unfairly pretty crier," Jisung pouted. "See? This is exactly what I'm taking about. Even when you're crying you look like a celestial being. Fuck you."

Hyunjin laughed again, playfully shoving Jisung.

"I'm telling Chan you pushed me," Jisung informed him with exactly zero seriousness in his voice. "And he'll kick your ass again."

"And I'll tell him you swore at me," Hyunjin retorted with just as much bite. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, and Jisung shot him a lopsided grin.

"So... apology accepted?" He asked.

"Apology accepted," Hyunjin said.

"And for the record, your dance doesn't actually suck."

"Neither does your rapping," Jisung said, standing up. "I don't know about you, but my ass still hurts. What do you say we go demand sympathy and hot chocolate from Minho-hyung? He has magical powers, no one makes hot chocolate like him." He offered his hand to Hyunjin, who took it graciously.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Hyunjin said, reaching back to rub his backside. "Geez, remind me not to piss Chan-Hyung off anymore."

"We'll get our revenge later," Jisung said. "Just wait. He thought we were bad as enemies? Wait till he sees us as allies."

He couldn't help but grin when he saw the evil smirk that crossed the dancer's face at his comment. How about that. Maybe they _did_ have more in common than they thought. And maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the two of them after all.

Jisung walked out of the kitchen when he heard the leader come in and flop down on the sofa. He found Chan cracking open his laptop, bare feet stretched out in front of him. He padded over. 

"Hyung?"

"Hmm?"

"My ass still hurts."

"Language," Chan said, looking up from his screen. Jisung flopped down next to him, ignoring the half-hearted reprimand.

"Hyunjin's scared he's gonna be kicked out of the group," Jisung informed him.

Chan frowned. "What?" He asked.

"Yeah. He thinks he's disposable and only here for his pretty face. He was jealous of my all-star abilities and that's why he kept wanting to fight me."

Chan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because you were an absolute saint these last few months," the leader said sarcastically, pinning him with a look. Ok, point taken.

"... And maybe I was a little jealous of him too," he amended quickly to appease the elder. "But only a little."

"Uh-huh."

Jisung huffed.

"I'm trying to be helpful," he grouched. "But if you want me to go back to fighting I can do that too." _Ah_ , that sounded worse when he said it out loud. He cringed inwardly.

"I was kidding," he said quickly, in case Chan mistook his joking for attitude.

That had happened to him a few days ago and it had not been a particularly pleasant experience for him. Chan had made him write lines. _Like he was in elementary school_. Chan laughed, _thank goodness_ \- so Jisung relaxed and rested his head on the leader's shoulder.

"Hyunjin was _really sad_ earlier," he mumbled, and Chan smiled sadly.

"Thanks for telling me, Sung," he said. "I'm glad to see that you can look past your differences with Hyunjin and still care for him." Jisung felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the compliment in spite of himself.

"I don't like fighting with him all the time," he admitted. "And I really don't like seeing him sad." He buried his face in Chan's shoulder, and Chan started petting his hair fondly.

"I know, Sung," Chan said. "But now that you've talked it out, things will get better. And now I know how to help Hyunjinnie thanks to you." He kissed Jisung's hair fondly. It tickled him as it ruffled his hair.

"I'll talk to Hyunjinnie when he gets out of the shower," Chan continued. Jisung looked up.

"Don't tell him I told you," he said quickly. "I don't think he wanted me to say anything."

"Your secret's safe with me," Chan said. "Why don't you and Innie go to the convenience store and pick up some snacks? We're having a movie night tonight for team bonding."

"You're just trying to get us out of our room," Jisung accused. He was offended that Chan thought he wouldn't see through that.

"And you're getting free snacks out of it," Chan pointed out, proffering his credit card. Fair enough. He took the card, standing up.

"Don't spend it all," Chan told him. "30,000 won max. And make sure you get some choco pies, those are Hyunjin's favourites."

Jisung saluted before wandering off to find the youngest.

Chan waited for a few minutes after he heard the shower turn off and the sound of wet feet on the hardwood floor in the hall before knocking on Hyunjin's bedroom door, to give the boy a chance to dry off and put on clothes. He pushed it open.

Hyunjin was laying on his stomach on his bottom bunk, dressed in pyjama pants and a baggy t-shirt. His sweaty dance clothes were in a heap on the floor. Chan stooped down to pick them up and threw them in the direction of the door, in the hopes that they would eventually meet their end destination of the washing machine for their bi-daily load of dance laundry. Hyunjin looked up nervously as Chan approached him. Poor kid had really been put through the ringer today and Chan suddenly had the biggest urge to hug his pain away.

"Hey," he said softly, crouching down next to Hyunjin's bed. "Can I sit?"

"Hmm?" Hyunjin hummed, turning his head and glancing up at Chan. Chan's heart broke a little. "Oh. Yeah."

"How are you feeling?" Chan asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"'M okay," Hyunjin mumbled, blushing.

"Are you sure?"

Hyunjin shifted onto his side and looked up at Chan with glassy eyes. He nodded his head. 

"Just tired," he said smally. Chan sighed and reached out to stroke Hyunjin's hair.

"I don't think that's true," he said softly. "And I should have checked up on you as soon as I got home, you've had a rough day. Can you sit up?"

Hyunjin obliged, and Chan pulled him in to sit sideways on his lap. Hyunjin looked up at him, surprised. Chan smiled gently and wrapped his arms around Hyunjin, willing the boy to relax. Hyunjin did so effortlessly.

"Now, what's really wrong?" Chan murmured. Hyunjin sniffed before burying his face in Chan's shoulder. Chan could feel him shaking as he started to sob. _Poor boy_.

He started rocking the younger dancer in his arms, waiting patiently for Hyunjin to speak. After several minutes, Hyunjin looked up, tears still in his eyes.

"What if they kick me out?" He whispered.

"What if who kicks you out?" Chan asked, feigning confusion in an act of witness protection. _You're welcome, Jisung._

"The group. The company. I don't know," Hyunjin said.

"Why would they kick you out?" Chan asked, continuing to pet the boy's hair.

"Because I screw up the group chemistry and I'm not actually needed," Hyunjin answered. He sounded like he thought if was the most obvious thing in the world and Chan felt his heart clench painfully.

"Who told you that?" He demanded softly. "If it was Jisung tell me so I can kick his ass again."

That won him a surprised giggle from the dancer.

"It wasn't Jisung," Hyunjin said quickly, and Chan was pleasantly surprised that he was so quick to defend his age-mate. Whatever conversation the two of them had had earlier had obviously been somewhat effective.

"Then who?" Chan asked gently, brushing Hyunjin's bangs out of his face.

"Nobody," Hyunjin admitted eventually, looking down at his hands "At least, not in so many words. But they didn't need to. It's obvious."

 _And there went Chan's heart_. He pulled the dancer impossible tighter in his hug, bound and determined to fix the cracks in Hyunjin's own by sheer physical force. He kissed Hyunjin's forehead.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully," he murmured softly, but fully serious. Hyunjin looked up at him through wet eyelashes. "You are not disposable. You have every right to be here in this group, same as everyone else. I _chose you_ , didn't I?"

This conversation was way too déjà-vu for Chan. Hadn't he just had this conversation with Felix, like, _two weeks ago_? He was going to need to do a better job of making the members feel wanted. He made a mental note to check on them all in the next few days.

"You just chose me for my face," Hyunjin mumbled.

"I _chose you_ because you're a powerful dancer and a hard worker," Chan said. "Your face had nothing to do with it."

"Really?" Hyunjin asked sceptically.

"Really," Chan said firmly.

"That's not what the other trainees said," Hyunjin mumbled, and Chan had to roll his eyes. That was the problem of having so many underdeveloped brains and competitive personalities working and living together; everything got petty. He was _really glad_ they had their own dorm now. "What the other trainees said isn't true," Chan promised. "You got here on merit alone. I've seen how hard you've worked to improve your dance. And your rap."

He kissed Hyunjin's forehead again.

"Your place is here with us," he said gently. "And it always will be. Okay?"

"Okay."

Hyunjin snuggled in closer and Chan's heart swelled. _Finally_ Hyunjin was settling in. He had just needed a push in the right direction. 


	6. Quintuple Trouble Pt. 1: Slide Or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chan has his hands full with the Maknae Line and Minho and Changbin are only helpful when they feel like it.
> 
> AKA: The 00s go on a midnight "slide or die" adventure, Jeongin doesn't wanna be a snitch and nobody really gets any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES + WARNINGS: 
> 
> Mentions of spanking, some swearing.

Jeongin stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, or vibrate, or light up, or _something._ He had been frantically texting his 00 hyungs for the past 20 minutes and he was getting _really worried_ because none of them were answering. It was currently 3:26 am on a Thursday morning, and he was supposed to be asleep. They all were- but his hyungs had snuck out earlier to go on an adventure and Jeongin hadn't been invited to go, because "Hyungs will _kill us_ if they ever find out that we let you tag along." He had been sworn to secrecy, and had even been coerced into acting as lookout as they were sneaking out the door. They had promised to be back by 3 A.M. They were almost half an hour late. At 3:30 A.M. on a Thursday Night in early February. _Oh god, what if they had died?_

Jeongin shuddered. Trouble or not, he couldn't deal with this on his own anymore. He needed Hyungs. Hyungs always know what to do. He bit his lip as he rolled out of bed (it was times like this where he absolutely _loved_ not having a bunk bed), and slowly crept out of his own room into the hallway, hesitating for a minute to decide which of them to wake. Ultimately it didn't matter, they were both bound to rouse the other eventually anyways. He steeled himself and approached Chan's room. Chan was the leader. Surely _he_ would know what to do.

“Hyung?” Jeongin said timidly, nudging Chan’s arm softly as he perched on the ladder to Chan's top bunk. 

“Mmmh?” Chan mumbled, not even opening his eyes.

“Hyung!” Jeongin said again, shaking Chan’s arm a little more urgently. Chan cracked an eye open.

“What is it, Innie?” He slurred as he stifled a yawn, reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Um, Hyungs are missing.” Chan froze.

“What?” He said. “What do you mean, ‘missing’?” He sat up quickly.

“Okay, don’t be too mad-“ Jeongin squeaked. “But, um, they snuck out earlier, and they’re not back yet? But they’ve been gone for hours and they’re not answering their texts and now I’m kind of worried.”

“Hyungs, who?” Chan asked.

“I- all of them?” Jeongin stammered. “Except Changbinnie-Hyung and Minho-Hyung.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t-“

“Don’t even try that with me Yang Jeongin, _where did they go_?” Chan growled, danger lacing his tone.

“They said they were going to the park?”

“The Park. Really.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” Chan muttered, throwing off his blankets. He shooed Jeongin down the ladder and scrambled down after him. “Let’s take this out to the living room so we don’t wake Binnie.” He ushered Jeongin out of the room, frowning at Felix’s empty bunk. They ran into Minho in the hallway, stumbling blindly out of his own room.

“Wh’s gon’ on?” The dancer yawned. “Minnie and Jinnie aren’t in their beds. Where’d they go?”

“They snuck out to go to the park,” Chan said. Relief flashed through Minho’s eyes and he snorted, listing against the wall and crossing his arms casually. “What, they couldn’t wait till morning to go down the kiddie slide?”

Chan ignored the snide comment, turning back to the maknae. “How long have they been gone?”

“I- Not long?” Jeongin squeaked. Chan shot him an irritated look.

“Define ‘not long,’” he ordered.

“A couple hours?”

 _“A couple_ ** _hours?_** _”_ Minho asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Let’s go sit,” Chan said. Jeongin and Minho followed him to the living room.

“Tell us everything you know,” He ordered once they arrived. He forewent turning on the overhead lighting (it was too bright and jarring for someone who had _just_ been shaken awake to receive bad news) and turned on the lamp in the corner instead, before he pushed Jeongin gently to sit down on the couch. Minho sat down next to maknae. Jeongin looked up at him nervously.

“Um... So, I walked in on them in my room earlier today before dinner,” he started. “And they were talking about going out, so I asked them where, but they said I wasn’t allowed to come along. I asked them why not and they said not to worry about it, so I asked them what they were doing and they said they were going to the park once you were all asleep. And then... Um...” He hesitated for a minute.

“Go on,” Chan prompted sternly.

“I asked why I couldn’t go with them,” Jeongin said, “but they told me that Hyungs would kill them if they let me tag along so I couldn’t go,” he pouted. “But I probably wouldn’t have gone anyways,” he added quickly, seeing the livid looks from both of his interrogators.

“And you didn’t tell us all of this earlier because...?” Minho asked, annoyed. Jeongin blushed.

“Because I didn’t wanna be a killjoy,” he mumbled sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “And they told me not to snitch.”

“And they still brought Seungmin along?” Minho snorted. Chan cuffed the dancer upside the head.

“Do you know _why_ they were they sneaking out to the park in the dead of night?” He asked.

“Nothing illegal?” Jeongin squeaked.

“That’s a yes, then,” Chan said, fixing the younger with a calculating look. “Care to enlighten us?”

“Hyung, can’t you just ask them that yourself?” Jeongin whined. “I’ve already snitched enough!”

“ _Yang Jeongin_ ,” Chan growled. “Your brothers snuck out in the middle of the night to do God knows what, and you knew _about it_ and did _nothing_ , despite knowing very well that they could be putting themselves in danger. You are already in a heap of trouble and if you don’t tell me _right this minute_ what they were doing, I will turn you over my knee and get it out of you that way, and then you can get another one later as a consequence for _lying to us_. So what’s it gonna be?”

He levelled the maknae with a terrifying look, and Jeongin looked up at him, petrified. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but was interrupted by a bedroom door opening once again.

“What’s going on?” Changbin mumbled, shuffling out of his room, eyes so tired they really couldn’t be described as open.

“The 00s snuck out to the park,” Chan explained tiredly.

“What for?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Jeongin?”

Changbin noticed the presence of the youngest in the room for the first time. Jeongin was squirming nervously under the collective stern attention of his two “parent-hyungs,” as he called them, and wow, this was _way more interesting_ than sleeping.

“Okay! Okay,” Jeongin cried. “I’ll tell you!” Chan nodded, prompting the younger to speak.

“You remember when we went to the park last week and you wouldn’t let us slide down that really big hill?” Jeongin said reluctantly.

“Yeah...” Minho said slowly, trying to suppress a half-annoyed, half amused smirk.

“Are you telling me,” Chan asked, dreading the answer he was going to receive. “That your hyungs snuck out in the _middle of the night_ , to walk to a park almost _an hour away_ and slide down the _sheer icy slope_ of a _treacherous hill_ , _against my wishes and completely unsupervised_?”

“Um... Yes?” Jeongin stammered nervously.

“What?!” Changbin whined. “And they didn’t invite me?”

“But you wouldn’t have gone along with them anyways, Changbin,” Chan said pointedly, shooting the short rapper a warning look. “And you _definitely_ would have reported the shenanigans before they even happened.”

“Uh, Yeah, definitely,” Changbin said, utterly unconvincingly.

“They didn’t let me go either, Hyung,” Jeongin pouted.

“Good!” Chan cried. “At least they had the common sense to protect you! And _you_ ,” he said, turning to Changbin again. “You’re not helping this conversation at all, so either stop egging them on or go back to bed.” Changbin pouted, but dutifully piped down, flopping down on the other side of the maknae from Minho. The second eldest turned back to Jeongin.

“What time did they leave?” He asked.

“Just after midnight,” the maknae said.

“Did they say when they’d be getting back?”

“Well, they said 3, but...” Jeongin said, biting his lip. It was currently 3:30.

“Shit,” Chan muttered. “And they’re not answering their phones?”

“I tried calling and texting all of them,” Jeongin said, voice suddenly sounding a lot smaller. “They didn’t pick up.”

“Not even Seungmin,” Chan muttered. _That_ was cause for concern. Seungmin may be a little imp half the time, but he wasn’t the type to ignore messages from people asking about his safety.

“Should we call Manager-Hyung?” Minho suggested.

“I don’t know,” Chan sighed. “If they’re in mortal peril then it would be better to get management involved as soon as possible, but…” He cringed internally as Jeongin whimpered at the words ‘mortal peril.’

“But if they’re not, there could be company consequences and that would make all our lives hell,” Minho hummed understandingly, pulling Jeongin into his lap and kissing his shoulder. Jeongin melted into the hug. _Thank God Minho was somewhat in Hyung-mode tonight._

“They’ll be okay, Innie,” Minho murmured the words that had just been about to come out of Chan’s mouth. “Chan-Hyung won’t murder them until we’re sure they’re not already dying.” Okay, that wasn’t _quite_ how Chan would have worded it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and he couldn’t deny that part of him wanted to strangle the boys for their reckless stunt. Or smother them to death. That was probably more likely. Jeongin didn’t look particularly mollified as he met Chan’s gaze.

“They’re probably just running late, Innie,” Chan soothed, ruffling the boy's hair. “Who told you they’d be back at three?”

“Hyunjin-Hyung.”

“ _Exactly_. When does Hyunjin ever show up on time for anything?” Minho said. Chan tried not to roll his eyes.

“They probably lost track of time,” he said. “Maybe they set their phones aside so they wouldn’t get broken or something, that’s a very Seungmin move to pull." He sighed to himself. He needed more time to think and come up with a plan. Minho cleared his throat. 

"I've got this one," he said, poking Jeongin in the ribs and eliciting a squeak. "Go scheme and call the delinquents." Chan nodded gratefully. One less punishment to have to dole out that night. "Okay. Innie, behave for your Minho-Hyung. I'm gonna go to the kitchen and boil water for tea. Changbin, come with me.” Changbin groaned but obeyed, and Chan ushered the third-eldest from the room. Minho waited until the beginnings of Chan's 'You need to be a better role model' rant got cut off by the kitchen door sliding shut before turning to the youngest still curled up in his arms. 

“Let's get this over with, Innie,” He said, shifting the maknae to sit next to him.

It was over pretty much as soon as it started. Minho hadn’t planned on going hard, _not_ because he had a soft spot for adorable dongsaengs and there disarming smiles, but because the youngest hadn’t committed as great of an offence, and because he was clearly a nervous wreck about the fact that the others still weren’t home. He figured that the message about the dangers of covering for delinquent band mates had been received loud and clear.

“All done, Innie,” He said gently after laying the last swat. “Up you get.” Jeongin inhaled deeply, wiping the few tears he had shed on Minho’s hastily-thrown-on pyjama pants but made no move to stand. Minho bounced his knees to jostle the boy until he relented and allowed Minho to hoist him up into his lap. Minho immediately resumed the bouncing motion. 

“Hyung, why?” Jeongin whined at the motion, thunking his head against Minho’s collarbone. 

“Because you’re a baby and this is how you settle crying babies.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You are.”

“I’m not even crying that much.”

“See? It’s working.”

“You’re dumb, Hyung- _Ow_!” Jeongin whined, rubbing his forehead where Minho had landed a perfectly aimed flick. Minho leaned down and planted a big, sloppy kiss to the boy’s forehead. “There. All better.” Jeongin huffed indignantly, before curling into Minho’s hug. At that moment, Chan and Changbin emerged from the kitchen, hands full of mugs of tea. Chan rushed over, and after carefully setting the cups down on the table, sat down and scooped the maknae into his own lap. 

"All taken care of?" He asked gently, and Jeongin nodded. "Good. You’re grounded till Monday, though." Jeongin didn’t protest, just settled into his arms. Minho cooed and tickled Jeongin under the chin before handing him one of the teas, not at all deterred by Chan's maknae-theft.

“No luck?” Minho asked, accepting a tea of his own from Changbin.

“Straight to voicemail,” the younger producer confirmed. “For all four of them. But it’s possible their batteries died in the cold, it’s _freezing_ out there tonight.”

“Or they might just have their phones off,” Chan added, blowing on the tea before taking a careful sip.

“Probably,” Minho said. “No angry phone calls to ruin their fun. I bet you anything they’re hiding Seungmin’s phone from him to make sure he doesn’t ruin it for the rest of them.” Chan inhaled a lungful of tea as he snorted and started coughing.

“It’s not funny,” Jeongin exclaimed tearfully, sitting up and jostling Chan’s mug enough to spill the contents all over his hand. _Ow._ “They were supposed to be home half an hour ago! What if they’ve _broken their necks?!_ ”

“They're fine, Innie. I’m sure of it,” Chan lied firmly through his teeth as he wiped his scalding, wet hand on the arm of the couch. Minho hummed his agreement. “They have Seungmin with them, if anything bad happened he’d have contacted us by now.” Jeongin nodded, obviously not fully convinced, and Chan couldn’t blame him. His brain had been running through just about every possible worst-case scenario since Jeongin had woken him up and it was taking most of his willpower to stay calm and rational at the moment.

And so the four sat in silence, all on their phones, mass-texting the delinquents and sipping their tea. At one point Chan suggested that the others go back to bed. His suggestion was enthusiastically shut down by all parties, so after some negotiations, it’s agreed that they can stay up until there’s news on the others. They continue to sit around until they hear the unmistakable sound of the passcode being typed into their front door and multiple bodies piling into the entryway. There was a _thud!_ as someone hit one of their appendages off the wall.

“Shhhh!” They heard someone- probably Seungmin- hiss anxiously.

“Sorry,” Came Felix’s unmistakably deep whispered reply. They were obviously not in mortal peril if they were still making an effort to go uncaught. Chan quietly got up off the couch, padding softly to meet them, and Minho shifted Jeongin to sit next to Changbin and joined him. A moment later, the door from the mud room slid slowly open, and the pitter patter of multiple pairs of socked feet could be heard. There was a slight murmuring from one of them and another hiss from Seungmin of “Would you shut up? You’re going to get us all caught!”

“Oh, it’s a bit late for that, Minnie,” Minho purred, flooding the hallway with light as he hit the switch. Chan blinked in surprise at the sudden assault on his pupils as all four of the millennium boys jumped and whirled around. Three out of four screamed in surprise.

“Shh!” Chan scolded. “Don’t wake the neighbours!” The four miscreants stood, shell shocked in the light of the hallway. Chan took a step forward and pulled the closest boy to him, Jisung, towards him to do a visual scan for injuries.

“Are you all okay?” He demanded. “No blood, no concussions, no run-ins with gangs, sasaengs, pedophiles or police?” The boys all nodded, floundering.

“Good,” Chan breathed a sigh of relief, before rounding on the boys again. “Then _what the hell were you guys thinking, sneaking out like this_?!” He exclaimed. He wasn’t shouting, because it was nighttime, but he imagined it sounded like it to the 00s, who were cowering as he spoke. “Do you have any idea how _worried we were?!”_

“Sorry,” the boys mumbled, looking down at their feet.

“Sit down on the couch, all of you,” Chan ordered sternly, pushing them further into the living room. They all shuffled to obey. He crossed his arms and waited until all four 00-liners were sat on the couch and squirming under his gaze before starting his lecture.

“Let me give you a little rundown of how the past half-hour of my life has gone,” Chan said. “I was fast asleep in my bed, under the impression that all seven of my band mates were the same way. Then one of them comes to wake me up in the _middle of the night_ , and informs me that not only did half my group _sneak out_ , but they did so to go and partake in a potentially perilous activity that they had already been forbidden to do, and that they were late coming home and w _eren’t answering their phones_. No calls, no texts, home later than you said you would be? We had to assume the worst! I was _just about to call management to send out a search party! Do you get how_ ** _serious_** _this is?!”_

Seungmin, empathetic as anything, let out a pained whimper, obviously realizing how much their actions had scared the rest of the group. He _hated_ making people worry about him unnecessarily. The rest nodded but stayed silent, staring down at their hands in their laps.

“Care to enlighten me as to why you thought sneaking out in the middle of the night was a good idea?” Chan asked. None of the boys spoke up at first.

“It wasn’t,” Felix whispered after an awkward pause.

“No, really?” Chan said sarcastically. “Then _why on earth did you do it?”_

“We just wanted to have a little fun,” Hyunjin whined. He always got petulant when he got in trouble.

“Oh? And you couldn’t have fun in your free time in broad daylight?” Chan asked, raising his eyebrow. Hyunjin opened his mouth to protest, but Jisung elbowed him.

“Don’t even try, he knows everything already,” The producer muttered, sending Jeongin some really nasty side-eye.

“I want to hear it from you, though,” Chan said. “Seungmin, why don’t you explain?” The other three groaned, knowing there was no way they were getting off easy now. It was probably a bit of a dirty trick to put the goody two-shoes of the group on the spot like that, but Chan was impatient and wanted to get back to bed and Seungmin was the mostly likely of the four to answer with the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and they all knew it. The other three were more inclined towards leaving out incriminating details, twisting words and/or whining and pleading their way through their confessions, but Seungmin would give him the straight facts.

“We went to the park with the big hill because we wanted to slide down it and we knew you wouldn’t let us,” Seungmin admitted quietly, barely hazarding a glance up at Chan from where his knees were tucked up against his chest. Chan nodded.

“Who’s idea was it?” he asked, despite his gut feeling that he already knew the answer. The boys glanced at each other.

“ _Who’s idea was it?_ ” Chan asked, more dangerously. The boys flinched, and Jisung and Hyunjin raised their hands. Chan nodded.

“Thanks for fessing up,” he said. “You’re all grounded for three weeks, I’ll collect your devices in the morning. Now let’s wrap things up so we can sleep.” He turned to the two boys at the far end of the couch. “Innie, Binnie, back to bed,” he said. Jeongin looked like he wanted to protest, but apparently the lecture Chan had given to Changbin had sunk in because the other producer decided to behave like a proper hyung and ushered the maknae off down the hall. Chan turned back to the four miscreants. “You lot, to the kitchen and close the door. Heads down on the table and no talking. I’ll come get you when it’s your turn. Seungmin, stay with me.”

“Want me in the kitchen with them?” Minho whispered in his ear.

“If you don’t mind.”

Minho nodded and ushered the three oldest 00 boys out of the room, collecting empty tea mugs as he went. Chan sighed and sat down next to Seungmin. There was a reason he had decided to start with the vocalist. The boy was a _mess_. He had done admirably in hiding his tears from the other three (who were probably too wrapped up in their own misery to notice), but Chan could tell that the boy had been crying silently from the time he had first been ordered to sit on the couch. That wasn’t the behaviour Seungmin exhibited when he was sullen about receiving a punishment. No, this behaviour was indicative of the the young perfectionist taking _way too much responsibility_ for that night’s shenanigans.

“Oh, Min,” Chan sighed. “Come here.” He gently tilted Seungmin’s head up so he was looking him in the eye.

“I know you know what you did was wrong and dangerous,” Chan murmured softly. “And there are consequences for that. But I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this, alright?” Seungmin shook his head in disagreement. Chan should have expected that. _Time to change tactics._

“Minnie. Seungmin,” he said, stroking Seungmin’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “ _Listen to me._ This is not the end of the world, okay?” He brushed Seungmin’s bangs out of his face. “You guys made few mistakes tonight but everyone’s okay. Nobody got hurt. Everyone’s safe, at home and in bed, or will be soon. You didn’t even suggest the idea, so you _absolutely_ can’t take all the blame. Okay? Understand?”

“Yes, Hyung,” came the hesitant and tearful reply. Better than nothing.

“Okay,” Chan said. “Take a big breath for me.” Seungmin obeyed.

“Good. Are you ready now?” Seungmin nodded and moved to switch positions.

“Just so you know,” Chan said, “This is for your actions and your actions alone. You are not responsible for any of the other boys’ actions, nor are you guilty of any hypothetical situations that could have happened tonight but didn’t. Okay?”

“Okay,” Seungmin whispered.

“Okay. I’m starting,” Chan warned.

In typical Seungmin fashion, the young vocalist had taken his punishment extremely well, and Chan thanked his lucky stars for that because five Jisungs or Hyunjins would be _exhausting_.

After settling the fluffy-haired boy back down a second time, showering him in reassurances that “all is forgiven now” and “this is not your fault,” and “you took that so well, Min, I’m so proud of you,” the younger had started to fall asleep in Chan’s arms. Chan kissed his forehead.

“Time for bed,” he murmured. “Do you want to sleep with me tonight, or go back to your own room?”

“Mine,” Seungmin yawned. Chan wasn’t surprised, Seungmin usually wanted alone-time to process things. Plus Chan, Changbin and Felix’s room was _right outside the living room_ and while he and the other two arguably heaviest sleepers had no problems tuning out and sleeping through the noise, it would almost definitely keep Seungmin up.

“Okay,” he murmured in response. “Come on then.” 

He tugged the younger up and ushered him off to his own room, helping him rummage for his pyjamas. Once the vocalist was dressed for bed, he shuffled back towards the door.

“Where’re you going?” Chan asked, confused.

“I need to brush my teeth, Hyung,” Seungmin said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Right. Of course. Chan’s mistake. Seungmin returned a few minutes later, practically asleep on his feet.

“All minty fresh?” Chan asked lightly. Seungmin nodded, and Chan spotted him as he climbed the ladder to his top bunk, just in case. Once Seungmin had burrowed himself under his blankets, Chan stepped up on Hyunjin’s bed to kiss his forehead.

“Come find me if you need me, kay?” He murmured. Seungmin hummed his assent. Chan smiled fondly at him.

“Night, Minnie,” he murmured. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Hyung,” Seungmin slurred, and just like that he was out like a light. Go figure. Chuckling fondly, Chan climbed down from the Hyunjin’s bed and went to find Felix. _Two down, three to go._

He slid open the door leading to their Kitchen, surveying the room. The three miscreants all had their heads down as they were told to do (no surprise there when Minho was watching over them), although he saw at least two pairs of eyes peek up at him when they heard the door open.

“Felix,” He called. The boy in question quickly stood up, doubling back to tuck in his chair (so as not to incur the wrath of Minho) before following Chan to the couch. Chan sat down and leaned back, looking up at him.

“ _Let’s talk about safe decision-making, hmm?_ ”he hummed, manoeuvring the younger Aussie over his lap.

After what probably felt like ten years to the boy, Chan slowed to a stop, and Felix sagged in relief, rubbing his tear-filled eyes. Chan smiled, patting Felix’s shoulder soothingly.

“C’mere, Little Bro,” he murmured. Felix slid off his lap, curling up next to him, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder and wrapping his hand in the hem Chan’s hoodie. Chan pulled him into a protective hug.

“I hate having to do that,” he murmured, as Felix started to regain control of his breathing. “But I’d do it every single day if it meant that you’d stay safe.” _And he would._

“That won’t be necessary,” Felix assured him between sobs, and Chan huffed a laugh.

“I’m glad to hear,” he said. “At least _try_ to exercise some impulse control the next time you lot come up with some death trap idea?”

“I’ll try,” Felix assured him, cheek never leaving Chan’s shoulder.

“Good,” Chan said. “Because it would break my heart if something ever happened to you.”

Felix sucked in a big breath, hand never leaving Chan’s sweater, and started to cry again. Chan cooed, kissing the top of Felix’s head.

“I love you so much, Kiddo,” he murmured. “Love you too, Hyung,” came the stuttering reply. Chan grinned as he continued to comfort Felix until he had calmed down and started to doze off. As much as Chan would absolutely _love_ to cuddle Felix to death in this moment (as was their usual post-spanking ritual), he had two other boys to deal with yet tonight. He nudged the boy gently.

“Why don't we get you to bed while I deal with the other two, okay?” He murmured. “And then I’ll come back for cuddles, I promise.” Felix hummed in acknowledgment, allowing himself to be pulled up. Chan ushered him into their room. He sat Felix down on his bed and located the boy’s pyjamas, being mindful of Changbin who had already fallen back asleep on his bottom bunk.

“Here,” he whispered. “Lie down and try to get comfy, okay? I’ll be back in a bit.” Felix nodded, still sniffling. Chan ruffled his hair and left the room, returning to the kitchen and bracing himself for what was to come. While his three youngest dongsaengs had all accepted their consequences with some level of grace (at least, he _assumed_ Jeongin had taken his well, Minho hadn't reported otherwise), he knew his luck was about to run out in that department. Barring a miracle, the next two were not likely to go down without a fight. Chan only needed to decide which he wanted to get over with first: Jisung’s no-holds-barred arguing and attitude or Hyunjin’s Oscar-worthy theatrics. He opted for the latter of the two, hoping against all hope that having extra time to reflect on his actions would help Jisung be more cooperative during the consequences of them.

This approach turned out to be a mistake, as Hyunjin was still _sobbing_ in his lap ten minutes after Chan had tugged him upright, completely drowning out Chan’s litany of soothing words. It wasn’t unusual for the kids to need that much time to decompress after this kind of punishment, but normally at the ten-minute mark most of their sobs would have dissipated and they would have calmed down somewhat, whereas Hyunjin was still wailing loudly enough that Minho poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Hyunjin,” Chan sighed exasperatedly. “Honey, it was _not that bad._ I didn’t _murder you.”_

 _“You did!”_ Hyunjin sobbed, flopping dramatically in Chan’s hold and nearly sending himself careening to the floor. Again. Tugging Hyunjin back from the edge of his lap lest he actually throw himself off in a fit of woe, Chan turned to Minho, who simply rolled his eyes and sauntered over, stooping down to make eye contact with Hyunjin. 

“Hey, Drama Queen,” The elder dancer said. “Why don’t we go get your pyjamas on and we can come back out to bitch at Channie-Hyung after?” Chan could do _without_ the bitching but he still smiled his thanks as Minho hauled Hyunjin up off his lap and manhandled him (stumbling dramatically) down the hall to their shared room. Taking a moment to massage some feeling back into his legs, he went to fetch Jisung.

As expected, Jisung still put up a fight- he always got surly and combative beforehand, muttering passive-aggresively under his breath to try and keep his bravado up to distract Chan from the tears that would inevitably be welling in his eyes. Chan didn’t know why he bothered to try, honestly- He _knew_ Chan knew that he was a crier. While perhaps not as vocal as Hyunjin, Jisung would inevitably be in tears before they even started. And all the way throughout. And for a good amount of time after, although he was able to reign himself in much faster than Hyunjin, at least.

Not thirty seconds after Chan had managed to soothe Jisung’s sobs, Hyunjin re-emerged, bare toes peeking out from his oversized pyjama pants. Minho didn’t follow, so Chan assumed the other dancer had gone back to bed. Hyunjin threw himself against Chan’s side, and soon the two rappers were berating him about _“the injustice of it all, Hyung- you didn’t have to hit so_ ** _hard!_** _”_ Which was fine, because that’s the exact kind of banter they both needed to bounce back. Once they had gotten the theatrics out of their systems (Chan bore it patiently and hummed indulgently where appropriate), they rested their heads on his shoulders.

“Did you both learn you lesson?” He asked them, dropping a kiss to the tops of their heads.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin said sleepily.

“And what would that be?” Chan poked Jisung’s cheek.

“Don’t sneak out in the middle of the night to pull stunts that’ll get us maimed or killed,” the boy recited dutifully.

“And don’t try to punch Channie-Hyung when he tries to pull you over his lap,” Hyunjin added.

“How about we just don’t punch anyone, at all, ever?” Chan suggested mildly.

“That works too.” Chan and Jisung both snorted at that, but Jisung’s was cut off by a jaw-splitting yawn. Chan wasn’t surprised, the other producer was always tired after punishments, and the exhaustion had probably been increased exponentially given that it was currently just after four in the morning. 

“Bedtime you two,” he said, kissing both their heads again. The pair nodded sleepily and he helped them both up, smiling fondly as Jisung tugged Hyunjin wordlessly down the hall to the room he shared with the maknae.

“Night, Boys,” He called after them. “Love you!” He got two garbled “Love Yous” in return before he shuffled into his own room, finding Felix barely awake in bed. He nudged the younger rapper over to make room for himself and pulled the blankets up over them, running his fingers through the boy’s hair until his breathing evened out. He then closed his own eyes… Only to open them thirty seconds later when he heard a thump outside their door. Sighing, he slid out of bed to investigate, being careful not to jostle Felix. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the living room once again.

“Innie?” He asked, spotting the maknae curled up in a ball and wrapped in his comforter on the couch. “Why are you out here?”

“D-Didn’t wanna sleep in my room,” Jeongin whispered, tear-filled eyes looking up at him.

“Baby, why?” Chan sighed, sitting down next to the boy. Jeongin inhaled shakily, shaking his head.

“Innie-yah, talk to me,” Chan said, pulling the maknae, still encased in his blanket burrito, into a hug. Jeongin burst into tears, and Chan cooed, running his fingers through the younger’s hair.

“Hyungs h-hate me,” Jeongin whimpered, hiding his face in Chan’s shoulder. “They yelled at me for telling on them to you!” _Of course they did._

“Oh, Honey, they don’t hate you,” Chan said. “They’re upset that they’re in trouble, that’s all.”

“I d-didn’t mean to get them in t-trouble,” Jeongin stuttered.

“You _didn’t_ get them in trouble,” Chan said gently. “They got themselves in trouble.”

“B-But they got caught because of me.”

“Do you really think they would have gotten away with it if you hadn’t told me?” Chan said, eyebrow raised. “Minho woke up and noticed all on his own. And even if he hadn’t we probably would have picked up on their guilty habits in the morning. You lot aren’t as good at playing innocent as you think you are.” He booped the Maknae’s nose.

“The only person you got in trouble tonight was yourself, Innie, and we already dealt with that. You did the right thing by coming to find us. What they did was dangerous. You were looking out for your hyungs and I’m so proud of you for being so responsible.” Jeongin sobbed.

“I know, I know,” Chan murmured into Jeongin’s hair. “It sucks that the other boys are mad at you. But they’ll come around, I promise. They can’t stay mad at our Innie for long.” He kissed the crown of the boy’s head.

“Come on. You can sleep with Hyung tonight. I don’t want you out here alone.” Jeongin sniffled and nodded, getting up to follow Chan into his room, comforter trailing behind him. Chan pulled him down onto the bed. He knew from previous experience that three could fit in Felix's little single bed, it was just a matter of nudging the owner of said bed closer to the wall.The other Aussie stirred slightly at the disturbance, and Chan gently shushed him, murmuring something in lilted English as he tried to get himself and Jeongin situated. Felix seemed to settle for a moment, then blinked his eyes open and propped himself up.

“Wha’s gon’ on?” He slurred in English, eyes still glazed over.

“Nothing to worry about,” Chan murmured. “Hyunjin and Jisung were being immature and blaming Jeongin for getting them in trouble so he’s sleeping with us.”

“They’re stupid,” Felix yawned. “ ’S not Innie’s fault we snuck out.” He reached blindly over Chan to try and caress Jeongin’s hair. His aim was off because he couldn’t open his eyes all the way and he ended up batting Jeongin in the face instead, but the sentiment was the same. Chan chuckled fondly at Jeongin’s wide-eyed reaction.

“Yongbokie says the other two are stupid,” he translated. “See? He isn’t mad at you. The others will come around. Now lie down, you need sleep.” He tugged the Maknae down beside him and threw a protective arm over him. Soon, everyone was fast asleep.


	7. Quintuple Trouble Pt. 2: Don't Go Bacon My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chan had a long night and just wants to sleep, but his dongsaengs all need comfort and they're entirely too cute for their own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few chapters were heavy on the feels, so have some Hyung-Dongsaeng adorableness to lighten things up.

When Chan was jostled awake the next morning ( _entirely too early_ , he could _barely see the sunlight through his eyelids_ ), he found himself face-to-face with Hyunjin, who had apparently woken up early and decided to wedge himself into Felix’s already-at-capacity bed.

“Good morning, Jinnie,” he yawned quietly, propping himself up as carefully as he could so as not to jostle Felix and Jeongin- _Where’d Jeongin go?_ Sitting up a little more fully, he glanced around the shadowy room, relaxing slightly when he caught sight of the maknae curled up under the bedsheets of the top bunk across the room. He must have gotten sick of skinship in the middle of the night and migrated to Chan's bed.

“Hyung, you’re not listening to me!” Hyunjin whined, and Chan felt Felix stir behind him.

“Shhhhh!” He hissed, casting a hurried glance back at the freckled boy, who settled back down. Chan breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Hyunjin. “Sorry, Jinnie, I didn’t know where Jeongin had went. Say that again?”

“I said it’s not,” Hyunjin sulked.

“Not what?”

“ _Not a good morning_. I’m miserable and nobody’s awake to give me sympathy.”

“Well, keep your wallowing volume to a minimum,” Chan said. “The others are asleep and I’d like them to _stay that way._ They had a rough night too.” Hyunjin pouted and shifted closer to Chan, but dutifully lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Why were you worried about Innie and not me?” He demanded, sulking. Chan raised his eyebrows at the tone.

“Because you had Jisung,” he said. “And because when I found Innie last night he was planning to cry himself to sleep on the couch, _alone_ , because you and Jisung _froze him out of his_ ** _own room_**. _”_

“Oh,” said Hyunjin, guilt lacing his tone.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Chan said drily.

“I didn’t mean to,” Hyunjin said, biting his lip. “Is he ok?”

“He‘s fine now,” Chan sighed. “Lixie helped calm him down. But you owe him an apology later. Sung too. Well, all of you, really, he wouldn’t have gotten in trouble if you hadn’t dragged him into this whole mess. But _especially_ you two.”

Hyunjin nodded contritely, then frowned. “Innie got in trouble because of us?” He asked, crestfallen. “Why? He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“He lied to us,” Chan said. “He knew your plan all along and kept it a secret, even though he knew it could be dangerous. His actions were his own, but he wouldn’t have been in a position to take them if you hadn’t put him there. You made him feel like he had to _lie for you_ , Jin-ah. The only reason he told us at all is because he was scared that something had happened to you.”

Hyunjin’s face flushed and he looked down. “We didn’t think of it like that,” he admitted, hanging his head in shame. “We thought he snitched because we didn’t let him come along.”

“I know,” Chan sighed. “And I know you’ll make it up to him later.”

Hyunjin nodded quickly, shuffling even closer to Chan and resting his head on his bicep.

“I really didn’t mean to make him feel that bad,” he said earnestly, tears brimming in his eyes.

“I know,” Chan said gently, wiping them away. “I know how much you love him. And I’m glad you didn’t let him tag along. I’m glad you protected him like that.” He kissed Hyunjin’s forehead gently.

“Why don’t you try to sleep for a little bit longer, Jinnie?” He suggested gently. “You’re still exhausted. You can make it up to Innie when you’re both awake.”

“I can start now,” Hyunjin said determinedly, tumbling off Chan’s bed and clambering up the ladder of the bunk bed to snuggle up to the maknae and smother him in a four-limbed hug. It was a testimony to how tired Jeongin was that he didn’t even flinch. Chan smiled fondly as Hyunjin settled down and closed his eyes before rolling over to curl around Felix and try to catch a bit more sleep.

The next time he woke up, it was to the sound of a very loud, very indignant squawk, followed by a loud thud. He groaned. At least the sun was up a little higher this time.

“Hyunnnnnnng!” Came Jisung’s whining voice. “I wanna cuddle!”

Chan opened his mouth to make a retort, but when he opened his eyes to scold the younger for whining, he realized that the words were not meant for him. Jisung was trying to wriggle his way into Changbin’s bottom bunk. Apparently the thud has been caused by him falling down off the bed. Or being pushed. They were equally likely options.

“No,” Changbin groaned, shoving Jisung down again. “ ‘M sleeping, fuck off.”

“Please?” Jisung wheedled. “Everyone else gets to cuddle! Jinnie and Innie are cuddling and Minnie’s with Minho-Hyung and Felix is with Channie-Hyung and I’m all alone! I wanna cuddle too! _Please Hyung?_ ”

“Shhh!” Chan hissed. “Keep it down, you two! There are three other people in this room who are still asleep!”

“Sorry Hyung,” came the twin replies, before Jisung turned back to Changbin with bambi eyes.

“Fine,” Changbin sighed. “You can cuddle. But if you try to kiss me, I _will_ push you onto the floor.”

“Deal,” Jisung said, scrambling up and flopping down next to his fellow producer. Chan sighed and closed his eyes. Might as well try to get a few more hours.

The _next_ time Chan woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and... pastries? He cracked his eye open. Was he still dreaming? He sat up and scanned the room. Two on the top bunk, two on the bottom. Two in Felix's bed, and... two new additions on the floor, rummaging through delivery bags and coffee cups in trays. That was new.

“Morning, Hyung,” Seungmin said, smiling shyly up at him. “Or afternoon, I guess. We ordered coffee. Well, Minho-Hyung did, I just helped him decide what to order. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch the phone, I know I’m grounded.” Chan grinned and slid off the bed to join Seungmin, suddenly overcome by the desire to smother the younger vocalist because he was _seriously too cute_. He pulled Seungmin into his lap.

“Thanks, you two,” he murmured. “That was really sweet of you.” He kissed Seungmin’s impossibly fluffy morning hair, and Seungmin grinned at him. Minho handed him a medium cup of something that smelled nothing like coffee.

“This one’s yours,” he said. “Because you’re trying to quit coffee. Vanilla Chai latte.”

“Where’s mine?” Seungmin asked, leaning forward to drag the nearest drink tray closer. Chan lifted his own cup up and around the younger, narrowly avoiding a collision with Seungmin’s head.

“Here,” Minho said, passing him one of the drinks from the other tray. “Those are Jisung and Changbin’s.”

“What’s Changbin’s?” Changbin asked, words garbled by a huge yawn as he rolled over and almost fell off the bed.

“Coffee,” Minho said, and Seungmin grabbed the largest cup of the bunch and handed it to the main rapper. “This little shit woke me up to order it so you better enjoy it.”Changbin grinned his thanks, and Chan nudged Felix awake next to him and pulled him into the seated position. “Latte?” He asked, holding the warm cup up to the boy’s mouth. Felix blindly took a swig, then pulled the cup fully from Chan’s hand to tip half the drink down his throat.

“Hey! That’s mine, you brat!” Chan yelped.

“Don’t worry, we had another one of those for Felix anyways,” Seungmin said, as Minho rummaged through the other tray and offered Chan an identical cup. Chan inhaled the steam of the sweet-smelling tea and hummed.

“Thanks,” he grinned. Seungmin didn’t answer as he scrambled up from Chan’s lap to pounce on Jeongin and Hyunjin, almost knocking over Chan’s new cup en route. (He was alarmingly clumsy when he was tired. It was adorable.)

The two in question both groaned at being woken up, and Jeongin’s eyes widened when he realized he was completely pinned by two hyungs who were supposedly mad at him. He relaxed slightly (only slightly) when he saw the evil grin Seungmin was giving him. He had obviously deduced that at least his fellow vocalist had forgiven him.

“We got you hot chocolate,” Seungmin informed the maknae. “Because you’re still a baby and not allowed to drink coffee. Jinnie, there’s an iced americano for you, too.”

Jeongin opened his mouth to protest being called a baby, then thought the better of it. He shrugged. “Hot chocolate’s better anyways,” he said, trying to squirm out from the bottom of the cuddle pile, to Hyunjin’s vocal protests. He eventually freed himself and tumbled down the ladder. Minho caught the boy before he could fall into the drinks and tugged him into his own lap.

“I want hot chocolate,” Jisung whined from beside Changbin, now apparently wide awake.

“We got you a mocha,” Minho said, resting his chin on Jeongin’s shoulder to look up at him. “We didn’t know whether you’d want coffee or chocolate so we split the difference. Is everyone up now? We have egg tarts.”

“You guys ordered breakfast too?” Chan asked, grunting as Seungmin, who had apparently climbed back down from the top bunk, dropped back down in his lap and reached for his own cappuccino.

“Yeah,” Seungmin said, “This is just the appetizer. The full breakfast is coming in... Hyung, when’s the next delivery?”

“Half an hour,” Minho said, glancing down at his phone.

“Half an hour,” Seungmin repeated. He leaned over backwards to meet Chan’s gaze. “We got extra bacon but it’s not all for you. I didn’t get any last time,” Chan rolled his eyes, but ruffled Seungmin’s hair nonetheless.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Half an hour you say? Perfect. Why don’t you riff-raff all go collect your electronics and bring ‘em back here in the meantime?”

He thought it was a pretty reasonable suggestion, but was met with a very loud, slightly overwhelming wave of indignation. It was times like these where he wished he _hadn’t_ given up coffee. Sure, he was overall less anxious and jittery than when he was on it, but he _needed_ his caffeine crutch in this moment. He took a sip of his chai latte, hoping in vain for the placebo effect to kick in.

“Hyunnnnng!”

“Really?”

“Why you gotta kill the mood like that?”

“Get them yourself!”

“It’ll take you five minutes, guys,” Chan sighed exasperatedly. “Five minutes. Maximum.” He stared them all down, knowing that one of them would eventually be the first to break.

“Fine,” Felix mumbled in English, sliding off the leader’s bed. “But I get first crack at the bacon.” He inched past Chan to start collecting his devices around the room. 

“Wait, If Felix gets bacon for getting things I want some too,” Jisung exclaimed, scrambling over Changbin who yelped in protest as the motion bumped his drink.

“Wait, Felix had a head start, that’s not fair!” Hyunjin protested as he sat up from where he had still been splayed out on the top bunk. He gripped the guard rail with two hands.

“Don’t-!” Chan said urgently, seeing what Hyunjin’s intended course of action was. “Jump,” he sighed, as Hyunjin landed with a large thud, miraculously sticking the landing and barely avoiding landing on Jisung. Hyunjin ignored him in favour of shoving Jisung out of the way so he could be the first to collect. Seungmin followed suit, and Jeongin clambered up after.

After four minutes and fifty-six seconds ( _yes_ , he had actually timed it, on the off-chance one of the kids would challenge him on the ‘five minutes’ thing), Seungmin returned from his room, laden with a plethora of electronics that definitely were not all his. Chan recognized Jeongin’s iPad and Nintendo Switch among the heap. He dumped them on Chan’s desk next to all of Felix’s, and then made a beeline for the pastries.

“Where’d the others end up?” Chan asked.

“Apologizing to Innie,” Seungmin said. “I already did. His stuff’s all here.” And with that, he shoved half a tart in his mouth. Chan grabbed a pastry for the road and wandered out in search of his other three hoodlums. He found all three of them in Jeongin and Jisung’s room, asphyxiating the maknae with alarming levels of physical affection. Literally asphyxiating, the two rappers were hugging him _really tight._ Seungmin was right, they had all apologized.

“Come on, you hooligans,” he called. “Go put your devices on my desk.” All three of them scrambled up to obey.

“For the record, Hyung,” Jisung said as he brushed past. “We could have done it in under five minutes but we stopped to apologize to Innie so we still get first crack at the bacon.”

Chan had to laugh at that. “Have it your way, Sung,” he said fondly. Jisung shot him a grin over his shoulder, almost dropping his laptop on the way. He followed the chaos back to his room. No sooner had he breached the doorway than their doorbell rang, and he was shoved back by a veritable stampede as a rallying cry of “food’s here!” echoed off the walls of the hallway. He snorted, and made his way over to collect all the devices in the designated “jail tote” under his bed. He vaguely noted that at least half of them hadn’t taken their drinks with them in the mad dash. Sighing to himself, he started collecting them all in trays. Maybe he could use them as leverage to get more bacon.

“Hyunnnnnnnnng!” Hyunjin’s wail pierced the dorm, and Chan sighed to himself. 

“What do you want, Jinnie?” He called back.

“Can you bring the drinks when you come?”

“I’m charging a hefty bacon tax,” He warned. Ten seconds later, Seungmin bounded back into the room, drink already in hand.

“I don’t owe tax because you’re not carrying mine” the vocalist informed him. “But if I help you carry the drinks out do I get an extra slice of bacon?” Chan rolled his eyes.

“Sure, Minnie. You can have an extra slice of the bacon.” _As if he would have been able to say no._


	8. He I.N'd Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Jeongin is a walking, talking accident waiting to happen, but his hyungs love him anyways, and they still find him cute.

It was no secret that the Stray Kids maknae was incredibly clumsy _. Alarmingly so_. It was an almost-daily if not multiple-times-daily occurrence for the maknae to trip, run into, drop or break something (or someone), a habit which his Hyungs found endearing and exasperating in equal parts. The clumsiness wasn't something Jeongin could help, it just came naturally. Sometimes he wished it leave just as naturally.

It was seven in the morning, and the boys were supposed to be getting up and ready for their radio interview later that day, but it was almost winter and therefore cold and Jeongin couldn't _quite_ muster up the strength to come out from his nest of blankets. Still wrapped in his duvet, he peered over the edge of the bed, looking for something to aid the transition from cozy cocoon to the cold, harsh climate of the dorm.

"Can you throw me a sweater, Hyung?" He called down to Felix, who was lying sprawled out on the floor like he was in the middle of an existential crisis, staring up at his phone. Felix grunted his assent (he really wasn't a morning person) and chucked a hoodie up to him. Jeongin caught it and threaded his arms through, but somehow he managed to get his head stuck, and he got disoriented.

His startled cry mingled with Felix's as there was suddenly no bed beneath him. He hit the ground with a thud, miraculously handing on his feet first, before he overbalanced and fell on his butt, narrowly missing Felix's head.

"What happened?" Changbin demanded, running into the room as Jeongin finally found the neck hole and popped his head through, tugging the hoodie down. "I heard a thud."

"I just fell out of bed, don't worry about it, Hyung," Jeongin said, standing up and brushing himself off.

"Don't worry about- _You're on the top bunk!"_ Changbin spluttered. "How did you even _manage_ that?" Jeongin shrugged sheepishly.

"I want to wrap you in bubble wrap," Changbin said with fond exasperation. " _Honestly_. Did you hit your head?"

"No," Jeongin said.

"He nearly hit mine, though," Felix said.

"Are _you_ okay?" Changbin asked, concerned.

"Yeah." Changbin sighed deeply. "Breakfast is ready," he said. He turned to Jeongin.

"At least _try_ not to fall flat on your face on the way to the kitchen?"

"I don't willfully trip over everything, Hyung," Jeongin said offendedly. "It just happens." Changbin shook his head and watched the younger wander off in search of food.

Once Jeongin got to the kitchen, he snagged his plate and chopsticks from the drying rack and made a beeline for the breakfast spread, spooning himself a generous helping of rice (that he didn't spill all over the place, thank you very much) and some fruit (Chan was always nagging them to eat more fruit because "growing boys need a balanced diet") before moving to help himself to the eggs that were keeping warm on the stove.

"Careful Jeongin, the stove's still hot," Chan called, looking up from where he was reading something on his phone.

"I'm being careful, Hyung," Jeongin said, rolling his eyes. "I know how to act around hot elements."

"You literally burned yourself two days ago," Chan reminded him.

"Yeah, on the _toaster_ , not the stove," Jeongin said pedantically.

"Right, because that's so much better," Chan said sarcastically.

"Don't worry, he already I.N'd this morning," Jisung said, loping into the kitchen and trapping the eldest in a back hug. "Statistically he should be fine for another few hours."

"He what?" Chan asked disinterestedly, reaching up to ruffle his captor's hair. It was way too early in the morning for this shit.

"He I.N'd," Jisung said, rolling his eyes at Chan’s offensive lack of knowledge.

"Right, Sorry, my mistake," Chan said. "I didn't realize 'I.N.' had gone from being a proper noun to a verb."

"I take offence to that," Jeongin grumbled, but the other two ignored his complaints.

"What did you do?" Chan asked, once he finally caught on to the meaning of Jisung's words.

"I fell," Jeongin said, choosing not to elaborate further.

"Uh huh," Chan shot him an I-wasn't-born-yesterday look. "Off what?"

"My bed."

"Your bed?" Chan asked. "The one that's two metres above the ground?"

"I landed on my feet first," the maknae whined plaintively.

"It was spectacular," Jisung grinned. "I could hear it from my room. I'm surprised you didn't."

"Stay away from the stove," Chan told Jeongin seriously. "You're gonna hurt yourself." Jeongin locked eyes with him and walked deliberately over to the heated surface, picking up the spatula. Chan opened his mouth to yell at him to watch what he was doing, but at the last second the maknae turned around and scooped up his eggs with no incident. He turned back around and smirked at the elder.

"See? _I'm fine_ ," he said smugly, carefully setting the spatula back down on the counter. He walked over to the table and set his plate down. He pulled out his chair, bumping the leg of the table as he did so and nearly sending his precariously-balanced chopsticks tumbling to the floor.

"I'm so proud of you," Chan said drily. Jeongin stuck his tongue out before shovelling the first bite of food into his mouth.

All things considered, Jeongin had done well that day. He hadn't even tripped during dance practice, which was a rarity- clumsiness and fast-paced choreography didn't always go well together. He was pretty proud of himself. In fact, Jeongin (and the others) had done so well that their choreographer had let them go early.

Elated, the boys had split up to enjoy their hard-earned free time. Jeongin had gone with Minho and Seungmin to get a celebratory donut at the Dunkin' Donuts down the street from the company. After getting their donuts and wandering around the nearby park for a while, Chan had messaged the group chat to ask for takeout orders, so had they decided to head home so they could eat as soon as the food arrived.

The three of them were about half an hour away from their dorms and as usual, the two maknaes were bickering. They had managed to keep a truce all the way through the donut and park excursion, but apparently Seungmin could only resist the temptation to annoy the youngest for so long, and Minho just couldn't be bothered to stop him. They had just come up on an intersection with no lights, one of the ones where pedestrians had to fend for themselves. Suddenly, everything started moving in slow motion as Jeongin whirled around to give some snide retort to whatever Seungmin had just said to him, taking a step back as he did so in an effort to maintain his balance.

"Innie Innie INNIE WATCH OUT-" Minho said frantically as Jeongin's foot caught on the edge of the curb. He toppled backwards, almost falling into the road-

Before Minho snagged him by his bicep and yanked him back onto the sidewalk, _just_ as a car zoomed past.

 _"Holy shit,"_ Minho breathed. "Pay attention to where you're going!"

"Sorry Hyung," Jeongin mumbled. Minho still hadn't let go of his bicep. His heart was _racing_.

"You're holding my hand the rest of the way home," Minho informed him, taking a shaky breath.

"Hyung!" Jeongin protested. "That's not necessary!"

"You could have _died_ , Jeongin!" Minho snapped.

"It wasn't going that fast, I probably would have been fine," Jeongin mumbled, but still allowed Minho to take his hand.

"You're an actual safety hazard," Seungmin said, snickering.

"And _you're_ no better," Minho said, rounding on the vocalist angrily. "Why the _hell_ would you provoke him right at the edge of the road? Are you actually stupid!?" Seungmin had the grace to look ashamed, and Minho rolled his eyes.

"You're holding my other hand," he said. "I can't trust either of you."

"Hyung, no!" Seungmin groaned. Minho slapped his wrist then grabbed his hand. "No complaining," he said.

Looking both ways, and then looking again just in case, he led the other two across the street. True to his word, he held their hands the entire way home. They ran into Hyunjin and Chan in the lobby of their building, waiting for the elevator, and the two members waved to them in greeting, takeout bags slung over their other arms.

"Why are you all holding hands?" Hyunjin piped up curiously from behind the eldest.

"Because they don't have any self-preservation," Minho said, still not letting go of their hands.

"My self-preservation is _fine_ ," Seungmin protested indignantly, trying to pry their hands apart.

 _"_ You almost _killed Jeongin_ by fighting on the edge of the road," Minho hissed, gripping the vocalist's hand tighter. "Your _s_ elf preservation is **_not_** _fine_."

"It's not **_my_** fault he I.N'd again!" Seungmin protested. "It's not like I _pushed_ him or anything!"

"Boys," Chan sighed, looking tiredly at the two youngest. "What happened?"

"Jeongin almost fell into oncoming traffic," Seungmin informed him.

"He lost his balance because he was turning around to argue with _you_ ," Minho said. "You are _not blameless_ here."

"You both need to be more careful," Chan scolded the two maknaes mildly. They both muttered a "Yes, Hyung," and Jeongin scuffed the ground with his foot sheepishly.

"Can you let go of our hands now, Hyung?" Seungmin whined.

"We're not home yet," Minho informed him, more out of spite than anything. The youngest two both groaned, and Seungmin turned his best puppy eyes on Chan.

"Don't give me that look," Chan said sternly. "You brought this upon yourself. I can't believe you two were _fighting at the edge of the road!"_

Seungmin glowered as Hyunjin laughed at them. Chan responded by grabbing the dancer's own hand, locking them firmly together. Hyunjin squawked, but made no move to extricate himself from the leader’s grip, instead sidling up closer so that their arms were touching. The elevator dinged, and they all shuffled in, becoming a tangle of arms that was reminiscent of the human knot game that they used to play in gym class.

Once they made it to their apartment door, Chan dropped Hyunjin's hand to type in the passcode, and they all piled inside, where Minho finally released the other boys' hands. Seungmin darted out of the entryway as fast as he could, enjoying the return of his freedom of movement, but Jeongin hung back next to Minho.

"Sorry for scaring you, Hyung," he said softly, peering up at Minho with his big, innocent eyes. Minho sighed and pulled him into a hug.

"I forgive you," he said. "But don't make a habit of nearly dying. That was clumsy even for _you_. You're going to get hurt one of these times." Jeongin nodded.

"I'll try," he said.

Turns out, 'one of these times' came about three days later. Jeongin had decided to stay and practice their new choreo. The others had been hesitant to let him at first, as none of them were able to stay back with him (and given that their maknae had an uncanny talent for tripping over nothing, they didn't like leaving him unsupervised during the early stages of learning a dance). Chan had eventually caved and agreed, but not before reminding the maknae that 3Racha would be "just down the hall, and if anything happens, you _call us_ right away."

Jeongin had nodded and waved him off with a "Yeah, yeah, I promise, Hyung," and the three producers had left him to his dance. Soon, they were so immersed in their work that they forgot to worry about the maknae... Until Changbin's phone ringed. Frowning at the caller I.D, he answered the call.

"Innie?" He asked.

_"Um, Hyung?"_ Jeongin said, breath stuttering through the phone.

"Is everything okay?" Changbin asked. He had a bad feeling about this.

_"No,"_ Jeongin admitted, and even through the phone his voice sounded pinched.

"What happened?" Changbin asked.

_"I twisted my ankle,"_ Jeongin whimpered, _"and it **really hurts**."_

"I'll be there in three," Changbin said, standing up. "Don't put any pressure on it until I get there."

"What happened to Jeongin?" Chan asked urgently, having abandoned the song he was working on as soon as Changbin had picked up the phone.

"He I.N'd again," Changbin said grimly. "And he may have sprained his ankle." Chan cursed under his breath.

"Go meet him," the leader said. "I'll go grab some ice." Changbin nodded and ran from the room to go rescue the maknae. Jeongin looked up as he came in, dutifully remaining in place on the floor. Changbin dropped down next to him.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I just landed weird after that stupid kick-spin move we learned yesterday," Jeongin huffed. Changbin sighed.

"You're such a klutz. Which ankle?"

"Left." Changbin nodded and unlaced the boy's shoe. He paused and looked up at the maknae.

"Brace yourself," he said, before sliding the shoe off. Jeongin yelped and Changbin grimaced in sympathy.

"You okay?" Chan said, coming into the room, bag of ice from the artist lounge freezer in-hand and Jisung trailing behind him. Jeongin nodded, and Chan crouched down next to Changbin to examine the injured appendage.

"Can you wiggle your toes?" He asked, glancing up at the maknae. Jeongin wiggled them, grimacing slightly in pain. "Not broken, then, that's good," Chan said with relief. He took off his headband and used it to tie the bag of ice to the wounded area.

"That'll have to do till we get home," he sighed. "Come on, we'll help you get up." He and Changbin each grabbed him under the arm and helped him get vertical. Keeping one arm around each of their necks, he attempted to put weight on the foot, sagging slightly in relief when it didn't give out from under him.

"Let's get you home," Chan said, and Jeongin nodded. Chan piggy-backed him downstairs while Changbin called a taxi to pick them up. Jeongin had tried to protest with an "I can still walk, Hyung!" but Chan had shut that down with a warning look.

"If I let you walk downstairs you'd probably end up spraining the other ankle too," he said. "I'm carrying you, end of story." Jeongin resented that statement (even _he_ wasn't **_that_** clumsy), but didn't have enough of a death wish today to argue with Chan when he was in stern-leader-mode, so he had allowed Jisung to help him onto Chan's back and carry him downstairs. And then carry him back _up_ once they reached the dorm. Jisung had bounded ahead to get the door, throwing it open with a louder-than-necessary "Jeongin I.N'd again!" that had everyone hurrying over to meet them.

"What happened?" Minho demanded.

"I twisted my ankle," Jeongin said. "But it's not that bad, I can still put weight on it-"

"But you're not going to," Chan interjected as he set the younger gently on the end of the couch with the footrest.

"-But I'm not going to," Jeongin agreed with a sigh. "Because Channie-Hyung says that I'd probably end up spraining the other ankle too."

"He's probably right," Came Seungmin's unhelpful contribution as he sat down next to the maknae. Jeongin lunged at him to inflict some form of physical pain, but was stopped by Chan, who swatted him and man-handled him back to his previous semi-reclined position.

"Do **_not_** aggravate it," he said sternly. Jeongin pouted, which the leader expertly ignored as he propped the injured limb up with a pillow, before turning to Seungmin. "Instead of provoking the maknae, could you make yourself useful and go get him an ice pack?" He asked testily.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, but dutifully hauled himself up off the couch. He returned a minute later with two ice packs, individually wrapped in fluffy towels; a bottle of painkillers from their kitchen supply (painkillers were such a hot commodity in their dorms that they always kept two stashes; a small one in the kitchen and a more extensive collection in the bathroom, both carefully curated and regulated by Minho and Chan), and a juice box.

Tossing the ice packs at Chan, he curled up on the couch next to Jeongin. He handed the maknae the drink and popped a couple pills into his hand, holding them out to the younger, who accepted them gratefully. He yelped in surprise at the sudden cold on his ankle.

"Sorry, Kiddo," Chan said sympathetically. "We need to see if we can get the swelling down, otherwise we'll have to take you to the doctor." He set a timer on his phone. "Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off," he said. "I'm gonna go grab the first aid kit."

"Already got it," Minho said, entering the living, kit in hand. " _Aish_ , Innie, I told you to be careful, like, three days ago!" He ruffled the boy's hair fondly, temporarily removing the ice packs so that Chan could expertly wrap the ankle. After double-checking that the bandage wasn't too tight, Chan replaced the ice packs as Minho took the kit back to its home in the bathroom.

"It doesn't seem like a bad sprain, but you're taking it easy the next few days anyways, just to be safe," the leader informed him. "No dance practice until at least Thursday." Jeongin pouted, but didn't argue.

He spent the next few days propped up on couches, both at the studio and at home. He wasn't allowed to walk (or hobble) on his own, and it was making him a little crazy. When he complained about it to his Hyungs, they usually responded with some variation of "you should try to be more careful then," or "this is your own fault" which annoyed him to no end because carefulness can only do _so much_ for you when you're clumsy.

After he recovered from his sprain, Jeongin _had_ gone an unprecedented amount of time without incident. Even he had to admit he was impressed with himself. He had even allowed himself to start hoping that maybe his clumsiness had been miraculously cured. But alas, fate never was all that kind to him.

A whole five days after he was deemed sufficiently healed, he was at dinner with Minho and Hyunjin, at their favourite malatang restaurant near the dorms. It was a family-run establishment; a little quirky and run-down, but that's part of the reason they loved it so much. It had so much character. Minho had just finished paying for their meal and had ushered the other two towards the exit. Since Jeongin was first to the door, he moved to open it for the other two.

He swung it open, and there was a huge **_crack!_** before the door fell off its hinges, landing on his toes. The staff came rushing out from the back as Hyunjin let out a startled scream and Minho stared at him in shock.

"What happened? Are you okay, Kid?" The owner asked, coming over as Minho lifted the door up.

"Yes, Sir, I'm okay," Jeongin said, blushing. "I'm sorry about your door. I can pay to fix it."

"Ah, don't worry about it," The owner said. "It's been loose for ages, we've been meaning to get it fixed."

"Are you sure?" Jeongin asked, biting his lip. "Please let me pay."

"Absolutely not," the owner said firmly. "It was only a matter of time before it broke. Is your foot okay?"

"Yes, Sir, thank you," Jeongin said, cheeks bright red with shame. He bowed in both apology and thanks, as Minho helped one of the waiters prop the door up against the wall. The owner inspected the damage where the hinge had previously been attached to the wall.

"It was a clean break," he said jovially. "We can fix it easily, don't you worry." He ruffled Jeongin's hair fondly. "Don't feel bad, Kid. These things happen. Seriously."

"Thank you, Sir," Jeongin mumbled, bowing again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"You can get that foot looked after," the man said.

"Are you hurt, Innie?" Hyunjin murmured. Jeongin shook his head, willing himself not to cry and add to his embarrassment. "I'm okay, Hyung, really."

"Thanks for your understanding, Sir," Minho said, stepping up to the plate as designated-hyung-in-charge. "Are you sure there's nothing we can do to make it up to you?"

"Not a thing," the owner said firmly. "And I won't hear anything more of it." He gently ushered them out of the now-empty doorframe. All three boys bowed profoundly once more, and the owner waved them away with a warm smile. They started their walk home.

Five minutes down the road, Hyunjin burst into uncontrollable laughter, and Minho joined within seconds.

"That was incredible," Hyunjin cackled. "You out-I.N'd yourself!"

"Shut up," Jeongin muttered, cheeks positively burning.

"Oh, Innie," Minho laughed. "This is why we can't take you out in public." Jeongin didn't respond, looking away and blinking back a few embarrassed tears. He hastily wiped them away, speeding up his walking. The sooner they got home the sooner he could bury his shame under the pile of pillows, blankets and plushies on his bed.

The minute they walked through the apartment door, Jeongin kicked off his shoes, leaving them a mess in the entryway (Minho would scold him for it later but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment,) and made a beeline for his bunk. He wasn't watching where he was going, however, and ran head-on into Felix.

"What happened?" Felix asked, frowning in concern at the look of distress on the maknae's face. Jeongin just shook his head and tried to push past him, but Felix grabbed his wrist, dragging the maknae towards Chan and Changbin's instead. Changbin was already in the room when they entered.

"Innie?" He asked, concerned. "What's the matter?"

"I hate being clumsy," Jeongin said, throwing himself onto Chan's bed and burying his face in the pillow.

"What happened?" Changbin asked gently, moving to sit next to him.

"I broke a door," Jeongin said sullenly. "I didn't mean to, it just fell off the wall. And now Minho-Hyung and Hyunjin-Hyung are going to tease me for the rest of my life." Changbin cooed, tugging the maknae up and pulling him into his lap.

"Are you okay?" Was the first thing he asked. Jeongin nodded, curling into Changbin's chest. "Okay, tell me what happened, from start to finish. I promise not to laugh," Changbin said. "Felix does too. Right Felix?" The other boy nodded, sitting down next to them. Once the story had been told in full, Changbin hummed in sympathy.

"Poor Innie," he said. "It's really unfortunate that that happened to you." Jeongin nodded, sniffling, and Felix handed him a kleenex.

"It was _so embarrassing_ ," he moaned. "Why do I have to be so clumsy?"

"That could have happened to anyone," Changbin said. "If Minho-Hyung or Hyunjin grabbed the door first it could just as easily have fallen on them."

"No it wouldn't," Jeongin said sullenly. "Because I'm a mess and this stuff always happens to me."

"You're not a mess," Changbin said, poking Jeongin in the ribs. "These things happen to all of us"

"It happens to me more," Jeongin countered. "Nobody says 'Oh, you Han'd again' or 'You Minho'd again,' it's always 'You I.N'd again."

"That's because Minho Hyung is scary," Felix said. "You're just cute." Jeongin rolled his eyes.

"Innie, if our teasing is bothering you you're allowed to tell us," Changbin said gently. "I know we're older but we still want to know."

"It's fine," Jeongin pouted. "I don't mind most of the time. Today was just humiliating, that's all." Changbin smiled and cuddled the maknae close.

"Feel better?" He asked. Jeongin nodded.

"Thanks, Hyung," he murmured, closing his eyes and leaning against the elder. Changbin sniffed fondly, glancing at his phone as he shot a text off to Minho and Hyunjin asking them to lay off the teasing for a little bit. Hyunjin had stubbed his toe on the door as he came in to apologize and check up on them, falling dramatically to the floor and writhing in pain, as he was wont to do.

"See, Innie? Even at your clumsiest you're still not as embarrassing as _that_ ," Changbin said. Hyunjin screeched in protest and kicked Changbin in the shin.

Jeongin giggled. _Yeah, maybe there was some truth to that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! I take questions, constructive criticism and compliments! ;)


	9. (S)Nap Out Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Stray Kids is burnt out and Chan just wants everyone to sleep, dammit!
> 
> Ft. SKZ's manager because their interactions with him are TOO DARN CUTE and also because Chan still needs to be taken care of sometimes, too.

Chan wanted nothing more than to be asleep right now. Well, that was kind of a lie. There was _one thing_ he wanted more than to be asleep, and that was for _all the other members to be asleep._

They were in the middle of their most stressful comeback to date; not only was it the most challenging vocally, but it was also demanding physically, and not just the choreography. Their schedule this time around was absolutely brutal, and they had been keeping odd hours (even odder than usual for an idol in a comeback phase) for two weeks straight now. On Monday they’d stay up filming until four am, and on Wednesday they had to _get up_ at that time to start their day. On Thursday they’d eat breakfast, lunch and dinner at regular times only to skip both breakfast and lunch and have dinner at eleven pm before they passed out in their plates on Friday. Even on their days off in between the crazy they couldn’t sleep, because their inner body clocks had apparently been irreparably damaged so they all ended up awake and hungry but unable to motivate themselves to actually do anything about it. They were _exhausted_ and it was getting harder for them to hide it.

Their day from Hell had started that morning at eight am (which didn’t sound so bad until you factored in that they had only arrived home after two the previous night). Even Seungmin, who _never_ slept through his alarm and was the closest thing Stray Kids had to a morning person, had had trouble pulling himself out of bed for their eight forty-five am pickup. The fifty minutes that followed had been filled with mad scrambling, snarky barbs and Dongsaeng-scoldings (“I _told_ you you should have showered last night, you have five minutes and then I’m coming in and flushing the toilet on you!”) and everyone’s least favourite game in the world to play, Wake 3Racha.

If he was honest, Chan didn’t normally remember much of the game as he was usually a part of it and not a player, but by the grace of God he managed to haul himself upright of his own volition that morning and had immediately been put to work (“Nice of you to join us, Hyung, help me with Jisung, would you?”), and that had gone about as well as it could have considering that Minho and Jisung were the two members with the shortest tempers when they were tired. Only four insults were hurled and two threats of physical harm made before Jisung was up, dressed, packed and slumped against the wall (and Chan) by the entry waiting for the van to pull up and that _had_ to be some kind of record.

Minho had come up to them and whipped a couple of protein bars at them before darting out of the room again, only to return two minutes later all-but-carrying a bleary-eyed Felix and depositing him impatiently in Chan’s lap. “He’s incapable of Korean this morning, have fun,” the main dancer had said sarcastically before disappearing again, calls of “Seo Changbin if you went back to sleep again I _will_ put ice down your shirt!” echoing off the walls behind him. Chan felt bad for making him do all the heavy lifting this morning (literally, it seemed), but he needed _at least_ another hour before he was conscious enough to be of any use to anyone. 

Seungmin had shuffled in next, swaddled in one of Chan’s oversized sweaters and at least looking somewhat alert and in good spirits, only to be joined by Minho (who was decidedly _not_ in good spirits) and then things really started going downhill, until Chan intervened with a sharp “Knock it off, this morning is stressful enough without you two at each other’s throats all the time!” and Jeongin shuffled in in laden with his own bag and two others and made a beeline for Seungmin, curling up next to him. Hyunjin and Changbin shuffled in a few minutes later (Hyunjin’s hair was still wet from the shower that he was _supposed_ to have taken the night before), at exactly eight fifty-three a.m _. Just_ in time for the the second incoming call from their manager scolding them for being late and telling them to come down to the van.

After much bickering, complaining, rearranging of seats (“There is _no way_ you’re sitting next to Minho, Seungmin, you’ll kill each other. Come sit with Hyung instead”), and two trips back upstairs to grab forgotten objects (“ _Just keep your AirPods in your backpack, Hyunjin!_ ”), they had finally, _finally_ made it to their first schedule of the day.

They were now pulling into the parking lot of their _third_ schedule, and Chan kind of wanted to die. Well, not die, that would be a bit excessive. Maybe just be knocked unconscious for a few hours. He was sat next to Jeongin in the van, and the youngest was an anxious mess. Whether it was nervousness for their music show performance in a few hours or because he was picking up on the tension between all his Hyungs, Chan didn’t know. He suspected it was more the latter, because although the maknae liked to pester his hyungs and provoke them to no end, he was still very sensitive to actual, legitimate conflict. Chan had shoved headphones in the boy’s ears and hit shuffle on his phone to shelter him from any further negativity and had promised him some alone time once they got to the dressing room to tide him over.

After they were all ushered into the broadcasting company building and shown to their dressing room, Chan made good on that promise, spreading out a sleeping mat behind one of the tables for Jeongin to hide behind and threatening bodily harm to anyone who interrupted the maknae. Jeongin had immediately curled up, using Chan’s sweater as a pillow and started scrolling aimlessly through social media. Chan gave it fifteen minutes tops before he fell asleep.

They had two hours until they were needed for soundcheck. Two glorious hours, and Chan had every intention of using those to impose naptime on as many members as possible. Some needed it more than others. Like Jisung, who had stomped off as soon as they got to the dressing room because he had been yelled at for punching a (very tired, _very hyper_ ) Hyunjin in the van. There was no doubt that Hyunjin had brought the other rapper’s wrath upon himself, but Chan had been able to hear the impact of the punch from two rows up in the van and that was a _bit_ too extreme of a retaliation, in his opinion.

Apparently it hadn’t been enough to deter Hyunjin though, because he had already bounced back from the crocodile tears and moved onto his latest victim and _wow_ , this kid really did have a death wish. From his vantage point on the couch in the dressing room (which he had completely to himself, because he had exiled a very whiny Changbin and Felix to the far corner of the room for some quiet time of their own when they first arrived), he watched as Hyunjin moved on to pestering Minho. The eldest dancer was sat at one of the tables in the middle of the room, trying to do something in his phone but was constantly being interrupted.

Hyunjin had evidently made it his life’s purpose to hinder his Hyung by any means possible, including (but not limited to) hitting his phone out of his hands, jump-scaring him, poking him in the ear (and the nose, and the collar bone) and most recently, pulling his hair. Chan sighed. He was probably going to have to stage a leaderly intervention soon if he wanted his second main dancer alive for their performance later.

“ _Hwang Hyunjin I will end you_!” Minho snarled suddenly, jumping up from his seat at the table and lunging to attack the younger danceracha member.

...Or now. Intervention could happen now.

Chan watched as Hyunjin danced back out of reach, ducking around the table and laughing hysterically as Minho started chasing him around the room. He also took note of Seungmin filming the whole exchange, laughing so hard the the camera was shaking. The second youngest was enjoying the show way too much.

The noise had apparently been enough to rouse Jeongin from his sleep because he whined incoherently and chucked his empty water bottle in the direction of the disturbance. It bounced off the table harmlessly and did absolutely nothing to deter the sleep-drunk eldest member of the 00-line and his revenge-seeking Hyung, only egging them on. _Great, this just keeps getting better and better._ Chan sighed and got to his feet, ready to intercept Hyunjin, who was flying towards him, looking back at Minho who was mere steps behind him and decidedly unaware of his impending capture.

He snagged the gangly boy around the waist and pulled him backwards until the younger was sat in his lap on the couch. “Gotcha!” He crowed, tightening his grip to account for the boy’s flailing limbs and digging his fingers into his ribs. Hyunjin shrieked before collapsing into another fit of laughter, still squirming mercilessly in an effort to escape. Not likely, as Chan had quite an impressive resume when it came to dongsaeng-wrangling.

Chan swung his leg up to trap Hyunjin’s and prevent him from injuring himself or somebody else, dodging Hyunjin’s head (and a potential broken nose) as the younger threw it back and hooking his chin around the dancer’s shoulder, minimizing his freedom of movement. He paused for a moment to shoot Minho a warning look as he approached, apparently still keen on revenge, and Minho huffed and stalked away.

“Are you done?” He asked flatly after a few minutes, once Hyunjin’s manic cackles had settled down to sporadic giggles and he had relaxed slightly into Chan’s chest. Hyunjin nodded, and Chan removed his leg to sit more comfortably. He kept his arms wound tightly around Hyunjin’s middle, just in case.

“Say you’re sorry,” Chan said sternly, nodding at Minho who had returned to his previous seat and was still glowering at the younger. Hyunjin wilted under the glare.

“Sorry Hyung,” he said timidly, blinking up at Minho and curling into Chan’s embrace to ward off the angry-hyung energy that was still radiating off the elder dancer. “I’ll calm down and leave you alone now.” Minho rolled his eyes and scoffed, and Hyunjin withered, burrowing further into Chan’s hold. Chan smiled fondly. Minho would likely exact his revenge later, but Chan didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t when others were trying to sleep.

“Let’s try to nap a little, yeah?” He murmured, kissing Hyunjin’s temple. “We’ve got time, and everyone else is at least lying down.” He gestured around the room, where most of the other members were scattered about in varying stages of dozing. Hyunjin nodded, and Chan manhandled him until they were both lying horizontal on the couch.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Chan tracing patterns into Hyunjin’s back absentmindedly, when Hyunjin was overtaken by another round of quiet giggles, though they were much more subdued this time around. Chan shushed him gently, bringing a hand up to card through the younger’s hair. Hyunjin sighed and turned to glomp onto him more fully, closing his eyes and smushing his face into Chan’s shoulder.

Chan smiled contentedly and continued his ministrations until he felt Hyunjin ( _finally_ ) go lax with sleep. Chan glanced around the room once more to make sure everyone was accounted for and at least _trying_ to get a much-needed nap.

Felix was full-on koala-cuddling Changbin in the corner, and they were both fast asleep, Changbin’s chin resting on Felix’s shoulder as the younger Aussie’s head rested on his own. One, two.

Jeongin (who had fallen back to sleep after the rude interruption earlier) was still sprawled out on the sleeping mat close to the table, now joined by Seungmin. Their hands were loosely intertwined as they dozed. Three, four.

Minho was still awake, staring at his phone with headphones in, but looked like he was going to drift off to dreamland any minute. Five. Hyunjin was six, he was seven- _Where was Han_?

He swept his gaze back across the room, scanning surfaces high and low for the younger (because with Jisung you really never knew where he was going to end up) before he caught sight of the tip of Jisung’s beanie from behind the trash bins in the corner of the room. _Gross_. If he didn’t already have arms full of sleeping dongsaeng, he would have gone over and scooped the cherub-cheeked producer up and moved him to a more sanitary location, but as it was he was rendered immobile. He sighed, before remembering that he still had one conscious hyung-ally. He turned to the one in question.

“Minho!” He hissed. “ _Minho_!” The dancer grumbled and took out his headphones, sending a sassy questioning look his way. Chan rolled his eyes at the attitude (Minho really needed to sleep too), but proceeded with his request.

“Can you-?” He asked, nodding in the direction of the trash bins. Minho looked perplexed, then caught sight of Chan’s target. He snorted derisively, but got up and wandered across the room, pausing to take photos before pocketing his phone and pulling Han to his feet. He tugged the younger over to the maknaes’ sleep mat.

Jisung stumbled before flopping down next to Jeongin, jostling the Maknae as he did so. Jeongin let out a noise of discontent, extricating his hand from Seungmin’s and using it to hit Jisung half-heartedly. Seungmin groaned at the disturbance and flopped over, rolling off the mat. Chan smirked as he watched Minho huff in exasperation, nudging the second maknae back onto the mat next to the others. His grin grew larger when Seungmin sleepily tugged Minho down beside him. That took care of that, then. _And to think the two of them played off that they hated each other all the time. Brothers._ Now that everyone was present and accounted for and being forced to rest (thanks, Seungmin!), Chan finally allowed himself to close his eyes, Hyunjin’s quiet breathing lulling him to sleep.

He was roused by a loud yelp in his ear after what felt like two minutes. He sat up rapidly to scan for the room for whatever chaos had incited the shriek, almost pushing Hyunjin off the couch in the process. He blinked rapidly as everything came into focus. Minho was standing over them, Cheshire Cat grin in place, and Hyunjin, the apparent source of the shriek, was sulking and rubbing the back of his neck, where an impressive red welt had appeared. Chan sighed and cast a disapproving glance up at Minho, who shrugged unapologetically and pocketed his weapon of choice, a rubber band.

“They’re ready for us,” the dancer said. “The others are already getting ready. Well, some of them are.” He nodded over towards Changbin, who was trying to no avail to prise himself put of a whining Felix’s grip. Chan snorted, but set Hyunjin down on the couch. He deftly reached into Minho’s pocket and plucked out the rubber band, sliding it around his wrist as Minho yelped in protest.

“Be a good Hyung,” he scolded lightly. “And go keep an eye on the others, Jisung’s probably in a post-nap high. Take this one and don’t murder him.” He hauled Hyunjin up and shoved him into Minho’s arms. Minho let out a disgruntled huff.

“I’ll drop kick him to the floor as soon as your back is turned,” the dancer informed him even as he readjusted his grip to better support Hyunjin’s sleepy form.

“Protect his head on the way down, the makeup noonas will throw a fit if you bruise his face,” Chan said, ignoring Hyunjin’s indignant squawk at the lack of protection. Chan left the two dancers to sort out their own issues before turned to his next target. There was a noticeable absence of any thud indicative of a Dongsaeng Dropkick behind him as he did so.

Changbin had made exactly zero progress from the time Chan had last glanced at him. If anything, Felix was clinging even tighter than he had been. Changbin groaned and flopped against the wall.

“Need a hand?” Chan smirked as he approached.

“Make him let go,” Changbin pouted, lightly punching Felix in the shoulder. Chan crouched down next to them and slid his arms underneath the younger Aussie’s armpits.

“C’mon, Felix,” he grunted in English, using sheer brute force to pull the younger off Changbin. Felix groaned, immediately turning in Chan’s arms and flopping against his chest instead, breaths immediately settling back down into a deep rhythm. _Did he really just fall back asleep?_ Sighing, he scooped Felix up, allowing the boy to wrap his legs around his torso. He hitched the youngest rapper up higher in his arms as he turned back to Changbin.

“Stop sulking. I think Minho went ahead with the others. I’ll be along with Felix in a minute,” he said, as the Changbin dragged himself up off the floor and dusted off his clothes and stumbled towards the door. “And don’t burn the stage to the ground!” Chan called after him as he jostled Felix lightly in his arms. The younger boy stirred, groaning and nuzzling Chan’s neck before blinking his eyes open, staring dolefully up at him.

“Sleep well?” Chan asked, smiling indulgently. Felix yawned.

“Not long enough,” he groused. Chan hummed his understanding. “I know,” he said. “But we only have a few hours left and you can sleep on the way home. We have sound check now, though, so I need you to wake yourself up.” Felix sighed, but slid out of Chan’s arms, just as their manager came in looking harried.

“There you two are,” he exclaimed. “Sound check’s in two minutes, hurry up and grab your gear!” Chan cringed and dragged Felix out of the room, jogging down the hall and calling out a “Sorry Hyung!” to the manager over his shoulder. Soon enough, all eight members were fitted with in-ears and mics, name tags in place for their camera run-through.

The nap seemed to have done only half the group any good. Jisung, as predicted, was practically high, jumping around and pulling faces throughout the run through and blatantly ignoring warnings from both Chan and their manager to “take things seriously, Han, this is our only run-through!”

Hyunjin and Jeongin had also made a spectacular recovery; Hyunjin had thrown himself onto the dance wholeheartedly (Chan suspected it was at least partially due to the death threats Minho has given him earlier), and Jeongin, although still sleepy, was smiling as per usual, and was happily bouncing along with the choreography, dutifully (and adorably) hitting his Jisung-Hyung mid-choreo when the rapper was goofing off too much. But as for the rest of them... _Well_.

Chan still wasn’t entirely sure Felix had ever woken up. He was keeping up with the choreo, miraculously, albeit with less enthusiasm than usual, but whenever they paused for even a second, he collapsed immediately into the arms of the nearest member. Most recently it had been Changbin, and that had almost been disastrous- the elder rapper was still sulky and shoved him off way too strongly, considering the younger weighed almost nothing. Minho was less patient with choreo mishaps than he usually was, but wasn’t quite as short tempered as he had been pre-nap time (and honestly, Chan was grateful for even the marginal improvement in his attitude) and Seungmin... 

Poor Seungmin looked like he was going to cry any minute. He often got overwhelmed when they had jam-packed schedules anyways, but add in the veritable sleep deprivation from the last few days (weeks, really) and it was a bonafide miracle that the younger hadn’t broken down sobbing yet- he always got more sensitive when he was exhausted, and nine times out of ten would burst into tears the moment something got to be just a little bit too much to deal with.

Their last run-through seemed to be the straw to break the proverbial camel’s back this time around, as Seungmin tripped over his untied shoelace (that in and of itself was telling of the sheer level of exhaustion the usually-diligent boy was experiencing) and almost face planted. He caught himself at the last minute, but Chan watched his face crumple in slow motion. _Uh-oh_. He rushed over to the younger, desperate to get him somewhere more private (Seungmin _hated_ breaking down in public and would try to suppress the negative feelings, but that would inevitably make the outburst ten times worse).

“Let’s go,” he murmured, sheltering the younger from the view of the cameras as he ushered him offstage. He hurriedly tugged out Seungmin’s in-ears and his own, and handed all their sound equipment off to Changbin, who was the closest and looked decidedly more alert now that one of his younger brothers was apparently in crisis. He shooed his fellow 3racha member off in the direction of the equipment room and tugged Seungmin down the hall back to their dressing room, not missing the frown from their manager as he did so. Sitting down on the same couch where he has napped with Hyunjin not even an hour ago, he pulled Seungmin down beside him and positively smothered the boy in a hug as he finally let go.

“Oh, Minnie,” he sighed, rocking the younger back and forth. The vocalist was crying silently, vibrating out of his skin with the combined force of his emotions and his willpower to suppress them. Chan was always impressed with how even when Seungmin wasn’t in control of his emotions, he somehow still was; by sheer willpower the younger refrained from full-on sobbing before a show because “that stresses the vocal cords, Hyung!”

He admired Seungmin’s dedication but it broke his heart because it prolonged the young singer’s suffering substantially- it was like the difference between dumping the emotions all out at once like a bucket of water and having to control the stream like you were pouring from a teapot. He also found it rather alarming how practised Seungmin seemed to be at crying quietly, because he seriously wasn’t making _any noise_ and Chan knew from experience that it takes years of practice to achieve that level of stealth-crying (living in a trainee dorm for the majority of his adolescence had taught him that).

He continued to cradle Seungmin until the boy had cried himself out about twenty minutes later. The other members had all quietly shuffled into the room in the meantime, but had graciously given Seungmin space. Chan hadn’t missed the pitying glances, but Seungmin, still buried in Chan’s chest, fortunately had. Embarrassment was _the last thing_ the vocalist needed right now.

The couch dipped beside him, and he looked up from Seungmin to see Minho, laden with a water bottle and a lollipop. “Hey, you big baby,” the eldest dancer said, but Chan could hear the fondness in his voice. “Feeling better now?” Seungmin mumbled a “Lea’ me ‘lone” into Chan’s chest and Minho cooed, tugging lightly at the ends of the younger’s hair.

“You should drink some water, Min,” Chan murmured, coaxing Seungmin out from his hiding place to take the water bottle that Minho was offering him.

“You just cried out like half your body weight in tears,” Minho added helpfully. Chan elbowed his eldest dongsaeng in the stomach, feeling the tiniest zing of satisfaction run through him at the “oof!” that he let out. Seungmin huffed a quiet laugh at that and sat up fully. _Of course Minho getting scolded was what cheered him up. Brat_. Chan rolled his eyes and took the water bottle from Minho, handing it to Seungmin who opened it and drank willingly. The three sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Chan got beckoned over by their manager. He reluctantly set Seungmin down beside Minho with a “Don’t tease him” warning to the elder before making his way over to the door where the manager directed him out into the hall for a private talk.

“What’s going on? Everyone’s condition is so bad today,” The manager asked with a mixture of annoyance and concern as soon as they were alone. Well, Chan _thought_ he detected annoyance, but Changbin and Minho had both told him on separate occasions that he tends to project his own self-doubt on others when he was tired, so there was still a chance that it was just that. Either way, he couldn’t help but feel defensive.

“We’re just tired,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching over slightly. He knew it probably came off as rude but he couldn’t help it at this point.

“I can tell you’re tired,” the manager sighed. “But you’ve been at each other’s throats all day. Changbin hasn’t stopped whining from the time I picked you up this morning, Felix hasn’t said more than two sentences together all day and Seungmin just had a breakdown backstage. That’s _got to be_ more than just tiredness _,_ Chan.”

“Fine. It’s not tiredness, it’s exhaustion.” Chan gritted his teeth. “And there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll be fine for the performance.”

“Easy,” the older man warned. “I’m on your side here, remember?” Chan nodded and bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly feeling like crying himself. Maybe Seungmin had the right idea. Their manager sighed.

“Come here,” he said, and Chan felt himself be pulled into a hug. He took a shaky breath. After a minute or so, the older man pulled back, keeping a steadying hand on Chan’s shoulder.

“Better?” He asked. Chan nodded, wiping away the few stray tears that had escaped.

“Good. Now I know your schedule is less than ideal this time around, and I know that it’s taking a toll on you guys. You’re not in trouble, I’m just concerned. Is there anything I can do to help?” Chan thanked his lucky stars that JYP had given their team such a gracious manager because honestly, if he had gotten properly scolded just now it probably would have done him in.

“I think we’re okay now,” he said, trying to pull himself back into leader-mode. “Seungmin’ll be fine in about twenty minutes now that he’s cried his frustration out, and Felix should bounce back now that Jisung has. Changbin’s just whining for the sake of it at this point and everyone else was at least feeling a little better after napping.”

“And what about you, Chan-ah?” The older man murmured and _Ah!_ Chan wasn’t ready for that question.

“I- Yeah I’m fine,” he stammered, feeling his ears go red under his manager’s skeptical gaze. “ _Really_ ,” he emphasized, giving the older man a small smile. “I’ll be fine. We just need to get through this last performance, yeah? Then we’re going home and we have a whole eight hours to sleep.” The manager sighed in defeat.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to hear from you” he said, taking his hand off Chan’s shoulder. Chan nodded and turned to re-enter the dressing room.

“But Chan-ah.” He turned back around to face the manager’s knowing gaze. “You know you don’t have to handle everything on your own, right? That’s why I’m here.” Chan nodded in thanks as he slipped back into the dressing room. He plopped down next to Minho on the floor and the younger groaned and flopped into his lap.

“You know there’s a couch over there,” Chan said to the vocalist, nodding in the direction of the now-vacant couch.

“You kidding? The less I see of the brats right now the better,” Minho muttered. Chan snorted.

“Just managed to escape, did you?” He asked knowingly.

“Felix is more awake now,” Minho informed him. “Actually, everyone is. They’re all giggling maniacally and I’m too tired to give a damn about whatever it is they’re scheming. That’s your problem now.” Chan snorted.

“That’s usually how it works,” he said wryly. Minho grunted, not looking up from where he was still using Chan’s legs as a pillow. Chan laughed and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall to try and get another twenty minutes’ rest.

“Hyung Hyung Hyung Hyung Hyung!” Or not. He cracked his eye open.

“Yes, Jisung?” He asked tiredly.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What’s the matter with yours?”

“Your camera is better.”

“Fine,” Chan sighed. “Here, have fun.” Jisung took the proffered phone and ran off. Minho cracked open one eye to up at him.

“You’re not going to ask why he‘s taking photos, Team Dad?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. _Shit_. That was a good point.

“Jisung-ah?” He called in the direction the younger had gone. “What exactly are you taking pics of?”

“It’s not picture, it’s video,” Jisung called back.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Chan cried.

“Nobody’s getting hurt,” Changbin pitched in. Well, that was reassuring, at least.

“M'Kay, don’t die,” Chan yawned, doing his best to ignore the hysterical giggles that were coming from the other side of the room. _He didn’t want to know_.

He was saved from discovering exactly what shenanigans were going down by the makeup noonas storming in, and all of the sudden he found himself engulfed in a flurry of hairspray, glitter and wardrobe changes until all eight of them were deemed stage-appropriate. _Good_. Stage time meant adrenaline and adrenaline meant that they’d have enough energy to get through the rest of the day. Everyone seemed to be more awake and aware than they had been during rehearsal (thank goodness!), so when their manager came up and asked if they were ready he was was able to say yes with complete honesty.

He almost flopped on the floor in relief when their performance was over ( _almost_. He didn’t feel like getting scolded for being unprofessional), and then everyone was shuffling off stage again, panting and dripping sweat and smiling tiredly as they shuffled back to their dressing room to await the end of the show. Just one more task. Just one more scene before makeup removal and costume return and a van ride home to bed. He could almost cry tears of joy.

He’s pretty sure some of the boys actually _did_ cry tears of joy when their manager informed them that their schedules for the next day had been cancelled and they had a whole day to themselves. 

As they piled into the van that night, the atmosphere was the absolute polar opposite from what it had been that morning. Seungmin was curled up between Minho and Hyunjin in the back (no death threats involved), Felix and Jeongin had created a sort of mega-pillow between them in the middle and were already dozing peacefully, and Chan was happily playing the role of designated-shoulder-to-lean-on for both his 3racha dongsaengs. Yes, they were still exhausted. Yes, they were still sore and sleep-deprived. But they had the promise of _rest_ , a whole day of it, and suddenly their world didn’t seem quite so bleak anymore.

Their manager pulled him aside once more after helping shuttle various still-half-asleep members up to their dorm last night. “You make sure you get some rest too, yeah?” The older man said. “You need it just as much as any of them.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Chan assured him. “I could sleep for a _week_ at this point.” The manager chuckled before bidding him goodnight, closing the door behind him. Changbin walked sleepily up to him and started tugging him wordlessly in the direction of their shared room. Yep. _That wouldn’t be a problem at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave comments, I love to make friends and I love feedback! ^^


	10. Out Of Your League

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Felix's bad mood has absolutely nothing to do with his sleep schedule, no matter what Chan says

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy!Felix didn't get enough of a feature in the last chapter so here he is again! 
> 
> WARNINGS: Swearing, implied spanking

Being an idol was stressful. Being an idol who could barely understand Korean most of the time was even more stressful. Being an idol in a group with a perfectionistic leader who often showed he cared by giving unsolicited constructive criticism was _even_ ** _more_** _stressful_. Yeah, Felix was stressed. He was stressed beyond belief and he was also annoyed as hell at Chan.

His lack of patience with the leader had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was running on very little sleep due to all-night gaming sprees and _everything_ to do with the fact that Chan _wouldn’t let him catch a break,_ which was the reason he even needed to stay up all night gaming in the first place. He couldn’t punch Chan in the face because Chan was his Hyung, but he COULD blow shit up and murder people and _pretend_ it was Chan he was beating to a pulp.

Would the hyungs be thrilled to find out he was sneaking out of bed at all hours to game while they were all asleep? Probably not. Would Chan kick his ass if he found out? Probably, he had threatened it the last time Felix had been caught up late gaming. But Chan nagged him so much these days that Felix just didn’t care. He was too tired to care. He was also too tired to do any other kind of work, which, he was discovering, did not go over well in a three-hour unsupervised group dance practice. Speaking of Chan being on his case all the time...

“Felix, pay attention!” Came Chan’s scolding voice for probably the sixth or seventh time that practice. Felix had given up counting at that point.

“I am,” he snapped, quickly ducking out of hitting range from Minho, who was standing next to him and looked almost as pissed off with him as the leader. The other dancer’s annoyance was unwarranted. Sure, he was a little off today, but he wasn’t _that bad_.

“Lose the attitude,” Chan sighed. Again with the attitude thing! Chan had been bugging him about that a lot recently. It wasn’t _his_ fault the others were being such a nuisance these days. Felix rolled his eyes.

“And stop rolling your eyes at me.” Felix licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, and turned away from the leader.

“Lee Yongbok!” Chan said sharply. Felix whirled back to face him, anger further incensed by Chan’s use of his Korean name. He _hated_ his Korean name and Chan knew it.

“What?” He spat. It took everything in him to refrain from adding a “the fuck do you want from me” to the end of the demand. That would _definitely_ not fly. Maybe in Australia, but definitely not in Korea. Chan crossed his arm and stared him down, eyebrow raised.

“Corner,” he said after a minute, eyebrow creeping up just a fraction of an inch. At this point, Felix was near-fluent in Eyebrow, and he recognized the distinction between Chan’s I’m-trying-to-be-good-cop-here eyebrow raise and his I’m-one-step-away-from-kicking-your-ass eyebrow raise. Chan had switched from the former to the latter. Rationally he knew this was when he was supposed to start back-pedalling, but right now he was too angry to care.

“No,” he retorted.

“ _Now_ , Felix,” Chan said, snapping his finger and pointing in the direction of the nearest corner.

“Fine!” He stormed off in the direction indicated, doing his best to ignore the stares from the other members. He leaned against wall and crossed his arms, glaring at Chan through the mirror. He saw the elder close his eyes and take a deep breath, directing everyone else back in position and cueing up the music again.

Felix watched others mark the choreo through the mirror with vague disinterest. He was still annoyed at Chan, but less so now. After watching them go through about three run-throughs at half-tempo, he zoned out entirely, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. _God, he was tired._

“Felix,” Chan called. Felix groaned internally before opening his eyes and lifting his head.

“Hm?” He responded. He didn’t feel like words right now.

“Are you ready to join us again?” The honest answer was no, he didn’t feel like joining the dance practice again, nor did he feel like doing _anything_ work-related. But the _right_ answer was yes, so he nodded, turning and shuffling back to the group, who were already in formation again.

Chan elbowed him and gave him a pointed look, nodding subtly to the rest of the group. He took the hint and turned to the group, bowing as he apologized. He didn’t know how to say “Sorry I interrupted dance practice because I was sick of Chan riding my ass all the time” in Korean yet, so he stuck with a simple “Sorry everyone,” which was probably a safer option anyways. Chan nodded in satisfaction before the music started up again and they threw themselves back into the dance.

After what seemed like hours, Chan finally called for an end to practice. Felix groaned in relief, joining the others in packing up clothes and water bottles and dance shoes, doing his best to avoid conversation, disappointed-hyung glances and Chan. Maybe if he kept under the radar he could get away with not talking at all.

“Felix,” Chan beckoned him over to the same corner he had been exiled to earlier. Felix sighed, but trudged over, hands in his pockets. He tried not to flinch as Chan rested a hand on his shoulder and stared him down.

“What was all that about?” Chan asked. He didn’t seem angry, thank god, but he was definitely still in leader-mode. His eyes screamed ‘I’m going to get to the bottom of this no matter what obstacles you put in my way.’ Felix was going to have to tread carefully.

“Sorry, Hyung,” he said, looking down at his scuffed up dance shoes. “Guess I’m just a bit tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Your attitude screams it from the rooftops. How much sleep have you been getting lately?” Chan asked. He sounded suspicious. _Shit_. Was he onto him?

“Enough,” he responded, picking at the hangnail on his left thumb.

“Then why have you been so off?” Chan asked. Felix shrugged as casually as he could.

“I’ll try not to bite your head off anymore,” he said, hoping that would distract Chan before he really started prying.

“Good,” Chan said, quirking his eyebrow. “Make a point of it.” Felix nodded, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

“But you’re going to bed early tonight,” Chan added. “Like, way early.” Felix groaned, but didn’t bother arguing.

“And Felix.” He glanced up.

“The next time you throw a tantrum like that there will be consequences, so I suggest you think very carefully about what caused this one and what you can do to prevent it from happening again.” Felix winced at the word “tantrum.” He supposed his reaction _was_ a little extreme.

“And just so you know, if you have issues with me I’m happy to talk about them if you’re a little more respectful,” the leader added. Felix nodded, looking back down at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Chan ruffled his hair and pulled him back to where the rest of the group was packing up.

“I’ll be home late tonight,” the leader informed the group. “So the rest of you head back, don’t stay up too late.” Felix tightened his grip on Chan’s hand instinctively. Chan glanced at him and smiled understandingly.

“I’ll come in and say goodnight when I get home, okay?” He murmured so only Felix could hear. “You can’t stay tonight, you need sleep.”

“But-“ Felix started, but was interrupted by Changbin coming over.

“Car’s here,” the rapper said, signalling him over. Chan pulled him into a hug.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Felix told him quietly.

“I forgive you,” Chan smiled, giving him a light shove in the general direction of the other producer, who wrapped an arm around him and guided him out the door.

He must have dozed off on the way home, because he didn’t remember anything past, like, the third right turn, and all of the sudden they were in the parking garage and Seungmin was pulling him out of his seat. They all made their way upstairs (minus Chan) and Felix made a beeline for his old bedroom, before remembering that he had new roommates and backtracking down the hall to climb into his bunk. He managed a whole half-hour of sleep before Minho came in and tugged him upright again.

“Don’t sleep,” the dancer scolded. “You won’t sleep tonight otherwise.”

“I’ll sleep both,” Felix mumbled, trying to lie back down. Minho just hauled him out of bed and pushed him towards the door. _Fine, he’d just nap on the couch then._ He stumbled out of the room and made a beeline for the couch, flopping down face-first. He was vaguely aware of Changbin and Minho conversing above him, and one of them said something along the lines of “leave him” (he thought), and then he was out again.He was shaken awake way too soon and told it was dinner time. The catnap and the food had both helped him to regain his energy and by the time dinner was done, he had made a full recovery.

Too much of a recovery, apparently, because when Minho exiled him to bed at 9 pm (he had obviously talked to Chan), he was absolutely wide awake. And bored.And irritated beyond belief (again) because he had had _plans_ for his forcibly-postponed League of Legends session for that night. He would pull out his monitors now but somehow he felt that Minho would be less than thrilled with him, so it was just going to have to wait until everyone was asleep. Which was the opposite of what Chan was trying to accomplish but really, it was the leader’s own fault. If he wanted Felix in bed sooner he shouldn’t make him wait for everyone else to be asleep before he started gaming.

A few hours of pretending to be asleep later, everyone else was in bed and, considering it was now three a.m., probably asleep. Felix slowly slipped out of bed and, like the ninja he was, unplugged one of his monitors from the desk in the room and carried it out to the living room, setting it on Chan’s desk. He wasn’t stupid enough to try and play when Minho was asleep across the room.

He went back for the rest of the hardware needed and set up, putting his headphones in and immersing himself into the game.

All of the sudden there was an arm wrapped around his chest. He tried to scream, but the noise was smothered by a hand covering his mouth and plugging his nose. His headphones were ripped off.

“Shhhhht!” A voice hissed in his ear. “Don’t wake the others!” Shit. _Chan_. He had forgotten the leader was still out. He turned in the elder’s grip. Illuminated in the blue light of the monitor, Chan looked like he belonged in The Walking Dead, with his unkempt hair and bags under his eyes. Except he looked scarier than a zombie, because zombies weren’t real and couldn't hurt him, and Chan looked about ready to pummel him. _Shit!_

“Game off. Now.” This was the second time Felix had managed to piss Chan off to this extent today so he didn’t dare disobey, hitting save and shutting down his computer and the monitor. As soon as he was done, he glanced up. Chan was smiling sarcastically. _Uh-oh._

“Guess we know why you’re so tired and snappy these days,” the older Aussie said pleasantly.

“Case cracked,” Felix said sheepishly. Chan scoffed.

“Get over here,” he said, grabbing Felix’s arm and hauling him over to the couch.

“It is almost six in the morning,” Chan said, “and I’m pretty sure I told you to go to bed early tonight.” He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms. “So do you want to explain to me why the _hell_ you’re up playing League of Legends?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Felix tried, running his hand over his mouth.

“Couldn’t? Or didn’t want to?” Chan pinned him with a look. Yeah, he was caught. _Curse Chan and his mind-reading abilities._

“Bit of both,” Felix sighed in defeat. Chan nodded.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Just stressed,” Felix mumbled.

“What’s stressing you out?”

 _You_ , Felix thought. “The usual,” is what he said. He and Chan has talked several times about how the language barrier and cultural differences made Felix’s life more difficult. Chan nodded in understanding. Maybe he was off the hook?

“And why didn’t you _want_ to?” Chan asked, and Felix cringed. Nope. Still on the hook, then.

“Because I wanted to spite you,” he admitted sullenly.

“I thought so,” Chan said. “Can you tell me why?” 

“I just... I was still pissed off at you.”

"About our talk about your gaming, like, a month ago?" 

“Yeah. And... other things. You’ve just been... Nagging a lot more lately. Or maybe I’m just taking more notice of it, I don’t know. But...”

“You got tired of me telling you what to do all the time,” Chan said knowingly. Felix nodded.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that, you’re just doing your job. I don’t know why it’s been bothering me so much.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been putting so much pressure on you these days,” Chan said. “I hope you know that it’s only because I care about you and want you to do well.”

“I know,” Felix quickly assured him. “It doesn’t normally bother me. Just the last few weeks.” Chan nodded.“Could it have something to do with the lack of sleep?” He said knowingly.

“Probably,” Felix admitted.

“And could the lack of sleep be correlated to what I caught you doing tonight?”

“...Probably.”

“Probably?” Chan raised his eyebrow. Did he practice that move in the mirror every morning? He was really good at it.

“Fine,” Felix sighed. “Definitely.”

“Uh Huh,” Chan said. “Let’s get this over with, the others will be getting up for school soon. Come here.” He patted his lap expectantly, and Felix stared blankly at him. Surely he didn’t mean...?

"Hyung! Why?" he whined. 

"Didn't I tell you earlier today that there would be consequences if you threw another tantrum? Because deliberately flouting your health to disobey me because you didn't like what I told you to do is _definitely_ a tantrum." 

"Technically this is the same tantrum," Felix said pedantically. Was he being petty? Definitely. Sue him. 

"Right, because a singular tantrum that carried on for weeks is so much better," Chan snorted. "Come on." He patted his lap again. 

“Here?" Felix whined. " _Now_?”

“Yeah,” Chan said. “I don’t see why not.”

“But people could hear,” Felix said.

“They’re all asleep,” Chan replied. “But they’re not going to be asleep for long, so unless you want them to walk in on this I suggest you hurry up.” _Dammit!_ Felix groaned and threw himself over Chan’s lap.

“ _Thank_ you,” Chan said, reaching around to tug Felix’s pyjama pants and boxers down.

“Hyung!” He whined.

“Hush,” The elder said. “You’ve earned this. Pipe down and cooperate so we can go to bed.” Felix scowled and buried his face in the couch. He just wanted to get it over with.

Apparently so did Chan, because Felix didn’t normally end up crying quite that quickly. At least, he didn’t _think_ he did, but at this point his brain was _really foggy_ so maybe that was throwing off his perception of passing time and his pain tolerance. _God_ , he was tired. _Why had he decided to stay up tonight?_

“Yeah, not your best decision,” Chan said from above him, and Felix blinked up at him in surprise from where he was curled up in the elder’s arms. Had he said that out loud?

“‘M sorry,” he sniffled, and Chan was quick to reassure him that he was forgiven. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything, and Felix simply soaked in Chan’s warmth, resting in his embrace and locking into the rise and fall of his chest. It was soothing. Eventually, though, Chan spoke up.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed,” he said gently. “It’s six am and we need sleep.”

Felix didn’t want to move. Walking took too much effort. He told Chan as much, and the elder laughed.

“Let’s go, you big baby,” he said, and suddenly he was being pulled up.

“‘M still not walking,” he yawned, wrapping his arms around Chan, who just snorted.

“Come on then,” Chan said, and suddenly Felix was being piggybacked down the hall. “You’re lucky our schedules don’t start till three tomorrow. Or, well, today.” Felix nodded into Chan’s shoulder, too tired to speak anymore. He realized belatedly that the bed he was set down in was Chan’s own, and sent up a prayer of thanks that God had given him a leader who knew him so well. He doesn’t even remember Chan climbing into the bed next to him before he was out.

It was Jisung who came in and pounced on them to wake him the next morning. Changbin was already up and gone, which was a clear indicator of how late in the morning it was. Changbin was _by far_ one of the hardest members to wake up.

“Nice gaming setup Dude,” The producer said, smirking at Felix. It was too early for that kind of teasing and Felix low key wanted to cry again. Instead, he did the next-best thing and hid his face in Chan’s chest. Chan’s chest sheltered him from looks of disappointment and gloating bandmate-siblings. Chan’s chest was safe. Chan nudged him in the ribs in an obvious prompt. _Well, it was safe until Chan’s altruistic side came into play._

“Let’s talk, Kiddo. Jisung, scram.” Jisung rolled his eyes and sauntered out of the room, calling a “Minho-Hyung has breakfast on when you’re ready!” over his shoulder. Once the door was closed, Chan sat up against the wall, tugging Felix up next to him.

“You’re an idiot,” the leader said fondly. “No wonder you’re so tired and snappy all the time. You must have been getting what, three hours of sleep a night? Maximum?” Felix chose to withhold that information, but Chan seemed to take the lack of admission as an admission in itself.

“The setup outside was pretty complex. You put that up and take it down every night?” 

“Sometimes,” Felix said.

“And the rest of the time?”

“You guys are really heavy sleepers when our schedules are busier.”

“Yeah, and you should be too. We get little enough sleep already,” Chan sighed. “Long-term sleep deprivation isn’t a good look on you, Lix.”

“You do it too!” Felix protested, sitting up in indignation. “You don’t sleep either!”

“Only when I have deadlines,” Chan retorted. “And I still try and sleep as much as possible. You’ve been willingly throwing sleep time away just to spite me.”

“Not _just_ to spite you,” Felix pouted. “It helps me destress.”

“Not he way you’ve been doing it. You’ve been lethargic and moody for _weeks_.” Felix scowled at that. His gaming was _not_ the problem here.

“And we’re going to need to do something about that. You’re going to bed early every night for the next week.” 

“Fair enough,” Felix groaned, thunking his head on Chan’s shoulder.

“And just so that we can remove all temptation, I’m confiscating your monitors,” Chan continued. “And your laptop and your Switch, as well. And your phone’s mine every night for the next week as well.”

“Wha- Hyung!” Felix whined. That seemed a little excessive. “My phone too?”

“Just at night,” Chan said. “I’m not stupid enough to send you about your day without your phone, you’d end up lost on the other side of the city again. But the minute you’re done for the night, the phone is mine.”

“Can’t it be the same for the others?” Felix pleaded.

“No, Felix,” Chan said exasperatedly. “Those are a privilege, not a necessity like your phone. No gaming for a week, end of story. Unless you want to keep arguing, then I could make it three?”

“No!” Felix blurted. Three weeks without his games? _He wouldn’t make it out alive._

“That’s what I thought,” Chan said, raising his eyebrow. “Grab them for me before breakfast. Actually, I guess it would be brunch now.” Felix pouted before curling back into Chan’s embrace. It wasn’t brunch time yet.

He almost fell back asleep like that, but Chan jostled him and made him get up to collect everything. He checked the time on his laptop before he gave it up. 12:30. Two hours until schedules. He would normally use that time to check social media, or game, or something equally relaxing, but that wasn’t going to be an option today or for the next week. He sighed as he sat down at the table, feeling very sorry for himself. He propped his chin up with his hands only to have it pushed off, just barely managing to catch himself before hitting his head off the corner of the table. He turned to glower up at the culprit.

“Well aren’t you just a joy to be around this morning” Minho said sassily, shoving a plate full of eggs towards him. 

“Tired,” was the only response Felix was willing to provide, but Jisung took it upon himself to fill the elder dancer in on the rest.

“He’s just sulking because Channie-Hyung’s mad at him,” he said. Sure, just broadcast it to the whole world. Felix sat up enough to punch Jisung’s arm, intent on showing his displeasure at being ratted out but that didn’t go over too well because all of the sudden he was getting lectured again about how “If you didn’t want to get in trouble you shouldn’t have been stupid, don’t take it out on Jisung!” The worst part was that Chan wasn’t here to interpret his defence so he had to settle for a meek “Yes, Hyung” and put up with Jisung when Minho’s teasing. By the time Chan had emerged from the shower, Felix had basically given up on life (and eating) and had resorted to trying to meld his forehead with the tabletop. The elder snorted and pulled out the chair next to him.

“They’re making fun of me and I can’t defend myself,” Felix whined. Chan laughed beside him and asked the other two something in Korean that Felix couldn’t be bothered to listen to. He probably should have tried to listen because Chan whacked the back of his head and he had no idea why.

“Don’t punch your friend, it’s your own fault you’re in this predicament,” he scolded in English.

“It was warranted, he tattled!” Felix protested. He tried to explain what happened, but the elder didn’t seem convinced, so Felix gave up trying to explain and rested his head back on the table. 

“Are you going to eat or just keep sulking?” Minho asked him.

“I can multitask,” Felix muttered, sitting up and picking up his chopsticks. Chan rolled his eyes and hit him again, although it was more playful this time. He pouted at the leader and scooted his chair closer to rest his head on his shoulder. Chan patted his knee reassuringly, occasionally proffering him pieces of meat from his own chopsticks. By the time brunch was done, Felix was in a much better mood. It may have been because of his proximity to Chan (even though he was still kinda mad at the leader he couldn’t deny that it was comforting to be close), or it may have been the absence of Minho in the room. The dancer had ambled out of the room a while ago to get ready for their dance-heavy day, finally letting Felix breathe.

Regardless, he was fully energized and ready for practice when it finally roamed around. Practice was good. Practice provided a seven-hour long distraction from the fact that he was no longer had access to most of his prize possessions. Practice also tired him out enough that despite the burst of energy he had gotten that morning, he was still tired enough to actually sleep when he was shooed off to bed an hour earlier than everyone else. Day one done, six more to go.

Day two hadn’t been so easy. Day two had lots of downtime, waiting around for members to finish private lessons, waiting for his turn for solo shots, waiting for managers to come with cars. And yes, he has his phone, but he also had either Chan or Minho looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t using said phone for any gaming purposes and that majorly _sucked_. All he could do was listen to music and stare off into space. Even once he was home and all the Hyungs were either in meetings or seemingly distracted, he _still_ couldn’t catch a break. He had just settled down on the couch to join Jisung and Jeongin in a game of Mariokart when he was rudely interrupted. 

“Yongbok-ah!” Minho called from the entrance to the kitchen.

“I’m not Yongbok!” Felix groused, turning to face the elder. Minho rolled his eyes.

“Come help me make dinner,” he said.

“Huh?” Felix asked.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you know what that means in Korean.” Minho rolled his eyes. _Meh. Worth a shot_.Felix sighed, staring wistfully at the controller in his hands before dropping it on the couch beside him. Jisung sent him a sympathetic glance as he stood up and went to join Minho. As soon as he was close enough, Minho reached out and flicked his forehead.

“Ow!” He whined.

“Chan-Hyung says no TV,” Minho said. Felix scowled, rubbing at the sting as he was pulled into the kitchen and put to work.

Honestly, cooking with Minho was fun because the vocalist actually took time to teach him the steps. Today he was learning how to properly dice onions. It was rare that he had the second eldest’s attention to himself outside of dance practice, so he didn’t complain further, allowing Minho to distract him from the increasingly loud gaming tournament happening in the next room. It grew even louder once Chan and Changbin returned from their meeting.After dinner, someone came up and snuck the phone out of his back pocket. Felix whirled around to protest and reclaim it, but sighed and let the thievery happen when he saw who had taken it.

“I was hoping you’d forget,” he sulked, and Chan laughed and ruffled his hair.

“I know,” the leader said before putting the phone in his own pocket. “I’ll charge it overnight and give it back to you at schedules tomorrow.” Felix pouted as Chan sauntered off down the hall, before sulking off to help Changbin with the dishes. At least it was something to do. Once the dishes were done and put away, he returned to the living room.

“I’m bored!” He whined, flopping down on the living room floor at Chan’s feet.

“Read a book,” Chan said. He didn’t even look up from his laptop screen.

“They’re all in Korean.”

“It’s good practice for you,” Chan retorted. “In fact, maybe you _should_ practice.” He gestured to the Korean language workbook that Felix had abandoned on the couch days ago. Felix pulled a face.

“Actually,” Chan said, finally looking up from his screen. “That’s a great idea. Let’s practice your Korean. _What did you do today?_ ”

“Noooooo,” Felix groaned.

“Yessssss,” Chan mimicked. “Come on. I know you know how to answer this question.” That was half-true. Felix knew how to use the basic past tense, in theory. However, he didn’t have the vocabulary to express exactly what had happened that day. After wracking his brain for like, five minutes trying to remember the Korean word for “chopping” he gave up.

“You know what would make this conversation easier? Papago,” he said. Chan kicked him in the stomach.

“You’re not getting your phone back, but nice try,” the elder said. “No translator apps, work around the words you don’t know.” Felix scowled, but continued to cobble together phrases resembling proper sentences until Chan had mercy on him and left him alone, turning back to his laptop.

“Hyung?” Felix said after a few minutes of continual wallowing on the living room floor.

“Hm?”

“I’m still bored.” Chan threw the Korean workbook at his head.

“ _Ow!_ ”

As the days crawled by, seemingly slower every day, he was starting to go a little stir-crazy. He was _not_ addicted to technology, _thank you very much, Mom_ , but gaming was his way to relax and now he couldn’t. The early bedtime also sucked majorly, he decided. Even on the days where they had to stay late at the company, Chan and Minho had made a point of shooing him off to bed as soon as they set foot in the door, even when the others got to stay up. _It wasn’t fair_.

 _Especially_ because the more he tried to get himself to sleep, the less likely it was that he would be able to relax enough to actually rest. He brought it up with Chan. He had been balling for a lift on the early bedtime, but apparently Chan was keen on seeing that one through, so instead one of the Hyungs had started coming in to keep him company until he was tired enough to sleep, which Felix supposed was a decent compromise. The elders would just lie with him and play with his hair until he dozed off. They didn’t talk much because trying to communicate in Korean was the _opposite_ of relaxing most of the time, but sometimes Minho or Chan would sing to him. It was nice. And Chan _had_ backed off with the nagging a little bit (for now anyways), so his life didn’t _completely_ suck.

He hated to admit it, but the extra sleep was making more of a difference than he thought it would. All of the sudden he had energy to _do things_ again. Sure, dance practice from eight to midnight was still killer but it was for everyone, and his daytime schedules didn’t seem _nearly_ as gruelling. He would never tell Chan as much (because the leader was NOT above “I-told-you-so” in the slightest) but he privately resolved to cut back at least _somewhat_ on his night gaming sprees. Regardless, he almost cried tears of joy when the week was up and all his beautiful, wonderful devices were back in his hands. Once everything was back in it’s proper place and Chan had finished with his “What did we learn from this experience” lecture, Felix had settled happily into a competitive game of FIFA with the leader.

It was after midnight when he started feeling sleepy again. He _knew_ he was feeling sleepy because Chan was winning and Felix was _definitely_ the superior FIFA player of the two of them. Chan, however, was fiercely competitive and didn’t notice Felix’s predicament, and Felix needed to do something about that lest Chan think he won by _actual merit_.

He scooched down the couch and rested his head on Changbin’s shoulder, never pausing the game as he did so. The elder rapper glanced up from his phone and looked at him fondly. 

“Sleepy?” He murmured. Felix shrugged in agreement. Changbin would get it.

“Why don’t you go to bed then,” the rapper said, running a hand through his hair. “Chan-Hyung will understand.” _Perfect_. Chan looked over when he heard his name, pausing the game.

“Everything alright? Oh,” he said. “Lix, you look tired.”

“‘M fine,” Felix yawned, blinking up at the leader. “I’ll go to bed after this one.” There were only ten minutes left in the match anyways. At least Chan was aware that Felix was playing with a handicap. After the game was over (Chan had won, but Felix had ensured that the victory wasn’t a sweet one), he bid the two goodnight, hesitating on the threshold of the living room. He _knew_ he was tired enough to fall asleep on his own tonight, but...

“Do you want me to come with you, Lixie?” Chan asked gently, sending him a knowing look. Felix blushed.

“Yes please,” he muttered. Chan chuckled, but immediately stood up and ushered him down the hall.The elder waited until Felix was tucked into his bunk before climbing in next to him. Felix sighed in contentment and closed his eyes as the leader started running fingers through his hair as someone had done every night that past week. 

“Hyung?” He said, cracking his eyes open.

“Yes, Lixie?”

“I’m sorry I had such a bad attitude the last few weeks. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you like that.”

“I know, Lixie, you’re forgiven,” Chan murmured, giving him another forehead kiss and taking his hand, playing with his fingers. “Get some sleep, okay?” Felix closed his eyes again. _This was a_ ** _much_** _nicer way to get to sleep._


	11. I’ve Got Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Seungmin gets injured and Minho is Tsundere. That's about it.

In hindsight, maybe Seungmin should have mentioned the pain in his back caused by his fall earlier in the day. He hadn’t thought much of it when it happened, he figured the throbbing pain that had come up was the same as when you stubbed your toeor hit your funny bone off the corner of the table. That’s what it felt like; the sharp pulses of pain that ebbed and flowed with his heartbeat and died down after a few minutes. Nothing extreme, it happened to Jeongin at least once a week.Except when you stubbed your toe or banged your elbow, the pain didn’t usually last for six and a half hours afterwards. Well, he reasoned, the pain hadn’t been _continuous_ for the entire six and a half hours. It had been dormant until dance practice, but now? _Ow_.

But still, he figured, it could be worse. It’s probably just a little bruise, nothing to worry the Hyungs about (although he thinks Minho at least is already a little suspicious). Nothing to stop dance practice for. _Certainly_ not something to tell the managers about, not when they were preparing to fly out to Australia in two days for their first concert in Chan and Felix’s hometown, with two weeks of back-to-back schedules while they were there. That would throw _everything_ off.

No, it was better not to bother anyone with it. After all, it was just a little pain. That came with the territory of being an idol. It wasn’t like a _serious_ injury. He could ask Felix to work the knots out later with his tiny magic hands, or stick a hot pack on it or something. That should be sufficient.

Except, the pain was really starting to get to him and the choreography they were practice at the moment required a lot of core and back strength and it was _really uncomfortable_. There was one part where he was require to pull off a fluid, powerful full-body wave, followed closely by a complex move where he had to basically roll across the floor-slash-stage, and it was coming up in the next eight-count of the dance. He didn’t think he’d be up to “fluid” or “powerful” today but he should _at least_ be able to mark the moves.

He executed the body roll just fine (well, “fine” was a _bit_ of a stretch considering both Minho and Chan were side-eying him in the mirror) but when it came time to do the ninja roll across the floor his entire back suddenly seized up, like a muscle cramp but _so much worse_. His eyes flashed white at the _sheer amount of pain_ shooting through his body, and he bit back a cry before his hip hit the floor and multiple sets of hands were rolling him onto his back. Unable to focus his eyes on the owners of said hands, he screwed them shut and focused on breathing through the pain. Someone was holding his hand and he squeezed it for dear life.

After a couple of minutes (he thought), the pain subsided to something more manageable. He tried to sit up, but a sudden spike in his lower back took his breath away and he fell back to the floor, the contact with the hard surface overflowing the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He blinked them away as Minho’s grim face eclipsed the bright lights of the studio.

“You hurt your back earlier, didn’t you?” The main dancer said more than asked. Seungmin nodded, screwing his eyes shut. To the others who had gathered around him, it probably looked like he was doing so in pain, but it was really because he couldn’t look Minho in the eye. The dancer looked _pissed_.

“You absolute _idiot!_ ” Minho hissed. “Do you know how _stupid_ it is to hide an injury like that?”

“Not now, Minho,” Chan said tightly, and Seumgmin opened his eyes to glance up at the leader, who was hovering over him next to the dancer. He now recognized that it was Chan’s hand that he had been holding- he still hadn’t let go. “Medical first, yelling later. Has Changbin found Manager-Hyung yet?” Seungmin whimpered at those words, and Chan shushed him, reaching with his unoccupied hand to smooth out his hair.

“You’ll be okay, Minnie. Can you feel your toes?” Seungmin tried to nod, but Chan used the hand in his hair to hold his head flush against the floor.

“No- Don’t nod, use your words,” Chan said. “We don’t know how bad your back is yet, you need to keep still.” Seungmin licked his lips, willing himself not to cry anymore.

“‘M fine, Hyung,” he managed to get out after a minute. “I can still feel and move everything.”

There was a sudden thundering of footsteps, and Changbin and their manager joined the circle of people staring down at him.

“What happened?” The older man demanded urgently, crouching down next to Seungmin’s head. “Changbin said you hurt your back?”

“He hit it while we were filming that capture the flag game earlier,” Chan said. “I think the practice just aggravated it, he seemed fine until we started dancing and then he basically collapsed. Min?”

He tried to nod again, but Chan still had him immobilized, so he croaked out a “Yeah,” and hoped that would be sufficient. Their manager frowned.

“ _Aish_ , why didn’t you say that you hurt it earlier?” He sighed, tightening the guilt-induced knot in Seungmin’s stomach. Causing issues for the team this close to their upcoming schedules was the _opposite_ of what he wanted to do. The older man stood quickly.

“I’ll call the doctor, don’t move.” Seungmin watched him go, blinking back tears once again.

“Hyung?” A timid voice at his feet called out, and all eyes were off him for a glorious minute. “Minnie-Hyung? Do you want an ice pack or something?”

“That would be great, Innie, thank you,” Chan murmured above him. The youngest nodded and scurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a wrapped ice pack.

“Where did you hit, Min?” Chan asked, as Minho took the ice pack from the maknae.

“Tailbone,” Seungmin said. Chan nodded and put his hand on Seungmin’s shoulder as Minho elbowed Felix out of the way to access his hips.

“This’ll be cold. Don’t move,” Minho said, before slotting the ice pack in between his lower back and the floor. Seungmin let out a little gasp. _Geez_ , it was freezing!

“I know,” Chan murmured above him. “It’ll be less cold in a minute, hang in there.” Seungmin hummed his acknowledgement.

“Hyung?” He asked. “Can you let go now? My back’s not broken, you don’t need to keep me completely immobile.”

“Huh-? Oh, sorry,” Chan said, removing his hands. “Try to keep still anyways, okay?” Seungmin nodded, glancing at the rest of the group.

“I’m not dying,” he informed them. “You don’t need to-“ he gestured vaguely with his hand, hoping that would be enough to convey the sentiment that he didn’t want them circling over him like members of a cult over their sacrifice.

“Right. Sorry, Min,” Chan said. “Kids, back off a little, let Hyungs look after Minnie, okay? Changbin-ah, why don’t you guys go to the lounge?”

“But-“ Hyunjin started, even as Changbin tugged him and Felix back and away from the scene.

“Seungmin doesn’t want to be crowded, Hyunjinnie,” Chan said. “Like he said, he’s not dying. Innie-ah, Han-ah, go with Changbin, please.” Seungmin sent him a grateful smile, even though he kind of wanted to cry.

He didn’t cry, though. Not when he had another flare up on the drive to the hospital. Not when he got a major scolding for hiding his injuries from both Chan and their manager in the privacy of their hospital room while waiting for the doctor to return with the results. Not even when the leader and manager were tossing out phrases like “official statement from the company” and “may affect schedules” and “rebook flights” while Chan ran his hand agitatedly through already-mussed hair from his seat next to the bed and their manager alternated between pacing the fluorescent-lit room and typing frantically on his phone.

He _almost_ lost it when the doctor came back and sentenced him to “five-to-seven days bedrest and no strenuous activity for at least two weeks” because that would put everyone _so far behind schedule_ , but he didn’t. Not until their manager uttered the words he _really didn’t want to hear_. “Maybe it would be best if he stayed back.”

“No!” Seungmin cried. He tried to sit up, but Chan held him down. “Don’t move,” The leader said firmly.

“I’m not staying behind!” Seungmin shoved Chan’s hand off his shoulder and turning on his side to face the manager. “You can’t make me stay behind!”

“Seungmin, hold still!” Chan hissed, gently pulling him back to lie flat on his back.

“We might have to,” The manager said. “Flying could aggravate your back, we can’t afford that. Your health comes first, Seungmin. Always.”

Seungmin angrily wiped away the tears falling down his cheeks. “You can’t make me stay back! I won’t!”

“Minnie,” Chan sighed.

“Hyung, it’s Australia! It’s your home! I can’t just- just _not go!_ ”

“I know,” Chan said. “I know! And I want you to be there _so bad_ but...” The elder looked up at their manager pleadingly. The older man sighed.

“I’ll see if we can find a way to get you there safely,” he said. “But I make no guarantees. We have to clear it with the doctor, the company and probably the airline as well.”

“Thank you,” Chan said gratefully, massaging Seungmin’s hand. The manager nodded and pulled out his phone, heading out of the room to start making calls, leaving Chan and Seungmin alone in the room together.

“Hyung,” Seungmin croaked, looking up at his leader, no longer able to contain the sobs. Chan smiled sadly at him.

“I know,” he said softly. “This was a total fluke. No one could have predicted that fall, or how bad it would affect you. It’s not your fault, Minnie.” He reached over to brush the tears off his cheeks. “There’s still a chance, though. It’s not a definite ‘no’ yet. If you’re really good about following the doctor’s instructions, which I know you will be, you _might_ still get to come. Don’t lose hope.”

Don’t lose hope. Okay. He could do that. Surely the back issue wasn’t THAT bad... was it? Sure, ‘back injury’ _sounded_ scary, and he was basically on bedrest, but still. He wasn’t _paralyzed_ or anything. He _refused_ to entertain the thought of not going.

“They’ll have to tie me to the bed to keep me from going to Australia with you,” he said. Chan laughed.

“You’ll do what’s best for your _health_ , **_regardless_** of what you may _feel like_ doing, Kim Seungmin,” their manager said, coming back into the room. Seungmin pouted at him.

“Speaking of your health, I’ve signed your discharge papers so we’re good to head back to the company. You can rest back there until we’ve figured out plans for Australia and cleared them with the doctor. And when I say rest, I mean you, horizontal on a cot or a couch the entire time, per doctor’s orders.” Seungmin nodded, and allowed Chan and the manager to help him sit up and transfer into the waiting wheelchair.

“Masks on, hoods up, boys,” the manager said as he wheeled Seungmin towards the exit. Seungmin and Chan both obeyed. Once they were outside, their manager left them on the curb at the drop-off point to grab the van. Seungmin then found himself lifted into the front seat of the van (being injured had _some_ perks, apparently) and Chan returned the wheelchair inside the hospital before climbing into the back.

Upon their return to the company, they were virtually jumped by the rest of the maknae line.

“Minnie! Are you okay?

“What did the doctor say?”

“Hyung said they might make you stay behind from Australia! They’re not, right? You’re still coming with us?”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Chan scolded. “Be gentle, he’s still injured. Let’s go up to the lounge, we’ll explain there. How were lessons?”

“We skipped lessons because we were too worried about Hyung,” Jeongin said nonchalantly as they bundled into the elevator.

“With permission?” Chan sighed.

“Minho-Hyung let it happen.”

“But did the instructors give you- Never mind. Am I gonna get yelled at later?”

“Ehh, maybe,” Han said. Chan groaned, sliding his arm under Seungmin’s to support his walk out of the elevator. Changbin caught on, grabbing his other side and they hobbled down the hall to the artists’ lounge, where Seungmin was lowered onto the couch and gently pushed to lie on his back as the others crowded around him.

“Relax, guys, he’s not paralyzed,” Chan laughed. “It’s just some minor bruising, and he wrenched it pretty good. If he rests it for a few days it should be fine.”

“But he can still come to Australia with us, right?” Felix asked, and Chan made eye contact with Seungmin, biting his lip. “ _Right?_ ” Felix asked nervously.

“I hope so, Lixie,” Seungmin smiled sadly. “They’re still trying to figure that out.”

“But you _have_ to come!” Felix cried.

“Lix,” Chan warned. “He may not have a choice.”

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin said, smiling at Felix. “My back isn’t that bad and Australia isn’t _that_ long of a flight. I’ll be fine.” Minho scoffed beside him and he turned to retort, but at that moment their manager popped his head into the lounge.

“Ah, there you are! Seungmin-ah, Chan-ah, can I talk to the two of you for a minute in the meeting room?” Chan nodded, standing up immediately and gently helping Seungmin to his feet.

“Can someone grab his other side?” Chan asked, and Minho immediately stood up. Seungmin groaned internally, not wanting Minho to have any more material to use against him later. He still allowed Minho to slide into place, supporting him from the other side as they walked him across the hall. Their manager had sat himself down at the table already, and was poring over his laptop.

“Sit down boys,” he said, gesturing to the seats next to him. “Oh, hi Minho. Are you staying too? You’re welcome to.”

“Yeah, l’ll stay,” Minho said, helping Seungmin into his seat. Seungmin shot him a glare, and Minho quirked his eyebrow as if to say ‘deal with it.’

“Perfect. Okay, I’m not going to beat around the bush here, your doctor was not too happy about your plans to fly,” the manager started, and Seungmin’s face fell.

“But-“ he started, shifting in his seat.

“Seungmin,” Chan warned him, resting a hand on his thigh.

“ _However_ ,” the manager continued. “I’ve been in contact with the airline and we managed to get you handicap assistance at the airport. You’re going to be in a wheelchair at the airport and for as much of the trip as possible, including schedules. No dancing, not even standing at the concert, and you’re going to spend as much time _resting_ as you possibly can. _”_ Seungmin nodded, relaxing back into his seat. He could work with that.

“And if I or any of your Hyungs think at any point that the schedule is too strenuous, we’re pulling you immediately and you’re going back to the hotel for bedrest. And if we say you need the hospital then you’ll go to the hospital, no arguments. Got it?” Seungmin opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.

“I understand,” he said reluctantly.

“I know it’s not what you were hoping for,” the manager said sympathetically. “But it’s the best we can do. The doctor wanted you on full bedrest, remember. This was the only plan that he cleared.”

He handed Seungmin and Chan both a printed copy of the instructions from the doctor. “He sent a prescription of pain meds and muscle relaxants, I’ll send someone to fill it for you as soon as I can. You need to spend at least a few hours every night lying flat and icing your back.” Seungmin nodded, as did Chan and Minho, who was reading off of Seungmin’s sheet.

“If your condition gets worse at any point in time, you need to tell me _immediately_. Your health is _not_ a game, I cannot stress that enough.”

“I know,” Seungmin groaned. “You’ve said so three times.”

“Don’t be rude,” Chan scolded mildly.

“He _needs_ to say it three times so you actually take him seriously,” Minho added. “Considering you _didn’t_ tell us immediately when the injury actually happened like you _should have_ , you absolute moron.” Seungmin winced, looking down at his hands.

“Sorry, Manager-nim,” he said softly.

“I know you’re disappointed,” The man said fondly. “But look at the bright side. You still get to go, and depending how much rest and care you give yourself, you _might_ even be able to participate in some of the later schedules.”

Seungmin nodded. “I’ll rest it as much as I can,” he said determinedly, resolving to spend as much of his down time as possible in the horizontal position. The manager chuckled.

“I know you will,” he said.

“What are the hotel arrangements?” Chan asked, scanning the document again.

“Right now he’s in a room of two with Hyunjin,” The manager said, looking it up on the computer.

“Should we stick Minho in the room with him?” Chan suggested. Seungmin blanched.

“ _No_ ,” he said emphatically. There was no _way_ he was rooming with Minho for such a long period of time.

“That might be for the best,” The manager said thoughtfully. “It would be better to have a Hyung in the room.”

“I would do it,” Chan said. “But I’m not in the hotel the whole time.”

“No, it’s easier to keep you with Felix so nobody has to switch rooms when you two are at home for those ten days.”

“I’m good to stay with him,” Minho said from beside Seungmin, glancing over at him. “I’ve handled this kind of situation before anyways, from my backup dancer days.” Their manager nodded.

“No,” Seungmin groaned. “I don’t wanna share with Minho-Hyung! I’ll be fine with just Hyunjin!”

“I’d feel better if there was a Hyung in the room,” Chan said earnestly. “And Minho would be a good fit, he knows injuries and how they affect performance the best out of all of us. He’d be better at determining whether you’re actually fit for schedules or not.”

“I can tell for myself!” Seungmin protested.

“No you can’t,” Minho retorted. “You literally hid a back injury from us _today_ , for _seven hours_.” Seungmin did his best not to roll his eyes.

“I didn’t think it was so bad,” he said plaintively. “I _never_ would have hidden it but it didn’t hurt that bad at first so I thought it was okay! Honest!”

“So you admit you **did** hide your injury,” Minho said, narrowing his eyes.

“I- That’s not what I meant!” Seungmin spluttered. “I didn’t hide it, I just didn’t think it was worth mentioning!”

“Not even when I deliberately asked you if your back hurt?” Minho challenged.

“It only hurt a little!” Seungmin said weakly. “I thought it would go away after a few minutes!”

“Yeah, and I could tell by the sound of the fall that it _wouldn’t_ , which is why you should _listen to me_ ,” Minho said frustratedly. Seungmin groaned angrily.

“Boys, boys!” The manager cut in. “You can have it out with each other later but we need to sort this out first. Seungmin, you really _should have_ told us right away, and you really _do_ need someone in the room who knows how to help you. Minho’s the best fit, I’m making that call now. The only choice you have is whether Minho is an add or a swap.”

“Do I have to?” Seungmin whined.

“Add or swap, Seungmin?” Their manager prompted again.

“Add,” Seungmin sulked. “At least if Hyunjin’s still there I won’t be _totally_ miserable.”

“I am an absolute _joy_ to room with, Kim Seungmin,” Minho retorted.

“You’re literally never nice to me,” Seungmin deadpanned, and Chan cackled gleefully from beside them. Seungmin turned to glower at the leader.

“This is a cruel and unusual punishment,” He stated. “You did this on purpose.”

“I didn’t, but if you choose to take it as a lesson in not hiding your injuries I won’t complain,” Chan grinned. Seungmin huffed and turned away, blatantly ignoring their managers amused chuckle.

“That’s all I need from you guys, you should get back to practice,” The manager said. “Seungmin, are you staying or leaving?”

“Staying,” Seungmin said at the same time that Minho and Chan said “leaving.”

“Hyung!” Seungmin groaned. “Watching you guys practice won’t hurt my back further.”

“You should be lying down, Min,” Chan argued. “Get as much bedrest in as you can before the flight.”

“Plus you’ll get all whiny and throw a hissy fit watching the rest of us work when you can’t and I don’t want to be stuck with your complaining,” Minho added.

“I will not!” Seungmin protested.

“You definitely will,” Minho smirked. Seungmin opened his mouth to protest, but Chan reached over and covered it.

“No more arguing, go home,” he said. “Hyung, can we send someone home with him to help?”

“Sure, if you think you can spare one. I’ve texted a driver to meet you downstairs in ten to fifteen,” the manager said. “Go grab your things, Seungmin-ah. I’ll send the prescriptions home with the other boys later. Chan, let me know who’s going with him.”

Seungmin sighed, standing up. He stepped on Minho’s foot under the table as he did so, grinning internally at the elder’s barely-concealed gasp before starting to shuffle out of the room. Chan and Minho caught up with him in seconds and Minho pinched his side as he and Chan began supporting his weight.

“Ow!” Seungmin yelped. “Hyung!”

“Minho!” Chan said exasperatedly. Seungmin smirked with satisfaction.

They ended up sending Changbin home with him because “Binnie’s already got the dance down and nobody else who does is responsible.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but Seungmin was just grateful that it wasn’t Minho because the main dancer was _still_ making passive-aggressive comments about his health and they were getting annoying.

Minho and Changbin were currently bearing the bulk of his weight as Chan fussed with his scarf and lectured him to “make sure you listen to Binnie and don’t forget to eat something, you missed lunch at the hospital.”

“Relax, Hyung, Minnie’s careful. He’ll be fine,” Changbin said. Seungmin appreciated the support.

“I’ll be fine, Hyung,” he assured Chan, who didn’t looked mollified in the slightest which annoyed Seungmin greatly because _seriously?_ There were _at least_ six other members who were worse than him at self-care, including Chan himself.

“He won’t get up off the couch the entire time,” Changbin added, and Chan nodded, satisfied before _finally_ backing off.

“If he knows what’s good for him,” Minho added. Seungmin shot the dancer a sarcastic grin and stepped on his foot again. Minho made an abortive move to return the favour, glaring at him, and Seungmin revelled in his small victory.

“You can’t retaliate, I’m injured,” he crowed.

“And you’re going to be stuck in a hotel room with me for three weeks,” Minho returned, as Chan ushered them out the door to meet their driver.

“They’re sticking the two of you in a room together?!” Changbin asked incredulously.

“It’s his punishment for lying by omission,” Minho said breezily.

“Is it his punishment or ours?” Changbin questioned.

“Hyunjin’s,” Minho grinned, detaching himself from the three-man side-hug to slide into the van first, helping Seungmin slide in next to him. “He’s in with both of us.”

“All _three of you_ in a room together? Oh _god_ ,” Changbin groaned, climbing in and closing the door. “If you fight loud enough that I can hear you though the walls I _will_ contemplate a triple homicide.”

“We won’t fight,” Minho retorted. “Seungmo has to listen to me because I’m his nurse and Hyunjin’s too much of a wimp to try anything.”

“Can you leave?” Seungmin griped, twisting slightly to try and grab his seatbelt. “You’re not coming home with us.” Minho pulled the seatbelt out for him, and he reached out to take it, only to have his hands batted away as Minho reached over him to do it up. He rolled his eyes.

“I could have done that myself,” he said.

“Bad for your back,” Minho shrugged before hopping out of the sliding door on the opposite side. “See you at home!” He blew them both a kiss, slamming the door before Seungmin had a chance to retort.

“It’s not funny,” he said sullenly, scowling at Changbin who was trying (and failing) to smother his giggles in his coat sleeve.

“It’s a little bit funny,” Changbin said. Seungmin reached to unbuckle his seatbelt to slide over to the window seat (further away from Changbin) but was stopped by a hand covering the latch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Changbin grinned. “Don’t undo Minho’s work.” Seungmin huffed, turning away from Changbin as best he could.

“Are you going to sulk all the way home?” The rapper asked.

“Yes,” Seungmin said, ignoring Changbin’s eye roll. He did, in fact, sulk the rest of the way home. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. If they were going to insist on coddling and babysitting him, he was allowed to sulk like the kid they seemed to think he was. Rationally he knew that it was a good idea for him to have an extra set of hands because everything still kinda hurt, but it was the _principle of the thing_.

The babysitting continued all the way up to the dorm, where Changbin wouldn’t even let him take off his own shoes by himself.He was then escorted to the couch and spent the next few hours watching reruns of music shows on TV, Changbin occasionally pressing ice packs to his back or force feeding him snacks. It continued into dinner prep when the three eldest shooed him out of the kitchen when he offered to help because “there’s no way you’re doing any heavy lifting.” Right, because their dinner plates were **so** heavy.

The constant coddling and lack of freedom made a dent in his appetite, so he forewent the actual dinner on the table and picked at his rice before quietly excusing himself, at which point Minho actually _yelled at him_ for walking to put his dishes in the sink, before hauling him off to the couch, telling him to “lie down, behave yourself and don’t try to walk on your own again” which was basically the final straw. Suddenly, all the feelings he had been doing his best to suppress all day, the disappointment, betrayal, frustration and sadness were all welling up in him and he found himself _needing to get somewhere quiet, urgently_ , because there was _no way he was going to cry in front of anybody today_. Not when they already thought he was weak and incapable.

But all the others were in the kitchen still, only Minho was in the living room with him and he absolutely did _not_ want to ask Minho for help. He took a few deep breaths, as quietly as he could, deliberately turning away from the dancer as he did so, hoping to get the emotions under control. There was no way Minho was going to let him walk to his room alone, and there was no one else close enough to help without him having to call out. And he was seriously going to start crying any minute now. It didn’t look like he had a choice. He took one last breath, before turning to Minho.

“Hyung, can you help me to my room?” He asked, doing his best to mask the tremor in his voice. Minho shot him a calculating look, but nodded, helping him to stand and limp down the hall.

“Are you in pain? Did you take the meds the doctor gave you?” The elder dancer asked.

“Just tired,” Seungmin said, hoping that would be enough to stave off further questions. They made it to his room and Minho let go of him to close the door behind them. Seungmin didn’t wait long enough to be helped down onto the bed, climbing under the sheets with no assistance, tuning out Minho’s nonverbal complaints. He rolled onto his front and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders, ignoring the twinge in his back as he did so.

“Seungmo?” Minho asked from above him. Dammit! Why was he still here?

“Can you leave?” He asked as he buried his face in the pillow to hide the tears that were already brimming in his eyes. He knew he sounded rude, but he seriously couldn’t hold it together any longer and Minho was pretty much the _last_ person he wanted to witness his pathetic breakdown.

“Are you crying?” Minho asked from above him.

“No,” he lied into his pillow.

“You are,” Minho said softly. “I can see you shaking from here. _Aigoo_ , _Minnie_.”

“Leave me alone,” Seungmin bit out.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“No.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” Seungmin just barely managed to stifle a sob.

“I don’t need help, I can take care of myself! Just leave me alone!” He snapped, then cringed internally. “Please?” He tagged on as an afterthought.

“ _Aigoo_ ,” Minho sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed which was the _opposite of what Seungmin wanted him to do_. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I’m not a _baby!_ ” Seungmin burst out, rolling onto his side and glaring up at Minho through his tears. “I don’t need to be _babysat_ just because I fell over during a game of tag!”

Minho just stared at him. Seungmin couldn’t tell if it was with annoyance or surprise. Maybe a bit of both. To be fair, Seungmin was usually a lot better at filtering himself.

“Seungmin,” The elder started, and Seungmin started crying even harder. He didn’t know what it was about that tone, but it had him spilling everything against his will.

“I just- Don’t you trust me?” He found himself pleading. “Do you really think so little of me that I would screw the group over by hiding a serious injury on purpose? _“_

“Minnie, that’s not it at all!” Minho said. Seungmin propped himself up on his elbows. Minho lifted him up the rest of the way, pulling them both back to lean against the wall, and Seungmin collapsed into the dancer’s side and _sobbed_ as Minho rubbed his arm soothingly. He was exhausted, and crying was hurting his back but he’s _just couldn’t stop_.

“Hyung’s sorry,” Minho murmured from above him after some time (Seungmin didn’t know how much). “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, and I know the others feel the same. You just scared us- you scared _me_. Back injuries can be serious, and if they go untreated they can affect your whole career. We were just scared for you, that’s why we’re being so protective. It’s not because we don’t trust you, I promise. We know you’re not careless like that.”

“I know they can be dangerous,” Seungmin sniffled. “But mine really didn’t feel bad at the time. I would have told you if it did.” He blinked up at his Hyung as the elder hummed and wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“I think we overreacted a little, huh?” Minho said, and Seungmin nodded, his lower lip jutting out of its own volition. “I think we were overreacting to make up for your under-reacting. Hyung’s sorry.”

“I got scolded for it seventeen times today,” Seungmin informed him. “That was overkill.” Minho snorted.

“You would keep count.”

“Seventeen times, Hyung!”

“I promise not to scold you about it again,” Minho said, rolling his eyes as he quirked his mouth fondly. Seungmin nodded satisfactorily.

“That doesn’t mean that I won’t scold you if you do anything to aggravate your back further over the next few weeks, though,” the elder warned. Seungmin hummed his understanding, curling in close as he took calming breaths to stop the tears.

“Now, were you actually tired or did you just want to come to your room to cry out your feelings out alone?”Seungmin opted to leave that question unanswered, closing his eyes and resting his head against Minho’s shoulder. There was a soft knock at the door, and Seungmin opened his eyes to peer at the intruder.

“Everything alright?” Chan asked, peeking around the now-half-open door. Seungmin blushed. Right, there were other people at home who had probably heard him bawling like a baby.

“Yeah, we’re good now,” Minho said as Chan walked over and handed Seungmin a vitamin water and one of his prescription pain pills. Seungmin thanked him and popped the tablet in his mouth, chasing it down with the water. The episode had done a number on his back; crying was hard work. He would probably need to ice it again soon.

“How much did you hear?” Minho asked. Seungmin tensed slightly.

“No words, just tears,” Chan said. “Why? Anything I should be worried about?”

“Nope,” Minho said casually. “Minnie and I just had a little heart to heart. He’s done flouting his health and I’m done scolding him for it.” Chan nodded.

“Is it safe to send in Hyunjin? He’s been whining about wanting to change his clothes but we didn’t want him to interrupt.” Seungmin glanced up at Minho.

“Sure,” the dancer said. “If he brings an ice pack with him.” Chan nodded, calling a “bring an ice pack with you, Jin!” over his shoulder before turning back to them.

“Min,” he said gently, and despite himself Seungmin found the first tendrils of apprehension curl in his chest as he met the leader’s gaze. “You know we’re only fussing over you because we care about you, right? It has nothing to do with our faith in your ability to look after yourself.” Seungmin sniffled, trying to reign in his emotions before he started crying again.

“I know,” he whispered, and Chan smiled at him.

“Are you sure you weren’t listening in?” Minho demanded. Seungmin was wondering the same thing.

“Didn’t hear a word, I just know Seungmin,” Chan shrugged. “What’s the matter? Worried the others’ll notice that you’re just a big softie?”

“You wish,” Minho retorted as Chan laughed his way out the door.

“Does this mean you two will be able to tolerate each other’s presence in the hotel room for three weeks?” He called as he retreated from the room.

“Dream on,” Minho yelled back. “You’re the one that stuck me in with Seungmin and Hyunjin, you did this to yourself!”

“What?” Hyunjin squawked, dodging Chan’s form as he came into the room, ice pack in hand. “Hyung, Why?!”

“I didn’t want him in the room either- Ahh!” Seungmin turned to glower at Minho as the elder shoved the ice pack up his shirt with entirely too much gusto.

“I'm not sharing a bed with you at the hotel, though. I'm sharing with Hyunjin,” Seungmin said.

“Absolutely not, he’s an active sleeper, he’ll push you off the bed or strangle you with affection. I’ll share with Hyunjin, you can have a bed to yourself.”

“I don’t wanna share with you!” Hyunjin protested. “ _You’ll_ push **_me_** off the bed!”

“Only if you try to glomp onto me,” Minho said.

“I can’t help the sleep-cuddling, I’m unconscious,” Hyunjin said petulantly.

“We’ll put up a barrier, then,” Minho said. He glanced over at Hyunjin’s sulking form. “Or you could sleep in the bathtub,” he offered. Hyunjin huffed.

“I’ll share with you,” he grumbled. “The bathtub will get wet.” Minho snorted, turning away and helping Seungmin to lie back down.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Now grab your clothes and get out, Minnie needs sleep.” Seungmin pushed peevishly at Minho for that comment, but the elder was apparently undeterred, because he reached over and tickled him under the chin before helping him change into pyjamas and walking him to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He then helped Seungmin back to his bed, lowering him down onto the mattress.

“Hyung?” Seungmin said once he was settled on his side, Minho sitting beside him to press the cold pack to his back.

“Yeah, Seungmo?”

“Thanks for looking after me today.”

“No need to thank me,” the dancer said. “Close your eyes, the pain goes away faster if you sleep.” Seungmin hummed and did as he was told. He could have sworn he heard a “Hyung loves you” just before he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a wee bit dialogue heavy ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	12. Minorly Cat-astrophic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Stray Kids hang out with some four-legged feline friends, and Chan and Minho’s carefully-curated domestic pharmacy gets put to good use

“Channie-Hyung?” Chan glanced up from his laptop as Minho sidled up and slid a hot chocolate and a doughnut across their dining table to him.

“What do you want, Minho?” Chan asked suspiciously as Minho pulled out the chair next to him.

“What makes you think I want something?” Chan just raised his eyebrow and nodded to the snack.

“You’re trying to preemptively sweeten the deal,” he said.

“If you don’t want it I can take it back,” Minho retorted.

“I didn’t say that,” Chan said, pulling the doughnut towards him protectively. There was heat coming off it- Minho had microwaved it how he knew Chan liked it. The attention to detail _might_ even persuade him to take the bribe. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Okay, so my parents are going to Japan for a week,” the dancer started. Chan nodded. He wasn’t sure where this was going.

“They’re leaving from Gimpo airport on Friday,” Minho continued.

“Did you want to go see them off? I can talk to the managers to get you some time off that day. What time’s the flight?” Chan offered. He couldn’t think of what else Minho would be asking for.

“Ah, not exactly?” The younger said. “I mean, I’d love to go see them off, but that’s not what I was going to ask for...”

“What is it, then?” Chan had a bad feeling about this. Minho was fidgeting with his fingers the same way the younger members did when they were about to confess to and/or ask something outrageous of him. This was the same kind of behaviour he had seen from Felix when the younger had come to him to own up to being the one that ripped a hole in the screen door on their balcony. The same mannerisms that Hyunjin had when he had come slinking back the second time saying he had lost another pair of AirPods. These were not mannerisms that he was particularly happy to see, because they normally preceded a massive headache- either from the consequences of going along with whatever nightmare they had cooked up for him, or the incessant whining they would subject him to if he didn’t acquiesce to their requests. Children. He was in a band with absolute _children_.

“Come on, spit it out,” he said, bracing himself for the worst.

“It’s just... They can’t take the cats with them to Japan, obviously, and my aunt who usually looks after them is visiting her high school friends in Daegu,” Minho said, turning his rarely-used dongsaeng puppy-eyes on him. “And I was thinking, what if the cats stayed here while my parents are gone?” Chan blinked at him.

“No,” he responded. Not even a perfectly-heated Krispy Kreme could sway him.

“Hyung, please?” Minho wheedled. “My mom’s going to stick them in a kennel otherwise! My babies can’t stay in a kennel!”

“No, Minho! Jisung and Hyunjin are _allergic!_ Do you not remember how badly Hyunjin reacted at the cat cafe a few months ago? He was wheezing. As in, he was _struggling to breathe_. We can’t bring cats into the dorm! Besides, how will you look after them? They’ll be home alone all day, and most of the night too, you _know_ what our schedule’s like.”

“Cats are independent! And Jinnie and Hannie can medicate, they’ll be fine,” Minho said pointedly. “ _Please_ , Hyung?” Chan groaned.

“Minho,” he started, but was cut off by Jisung and Felix bounding into the room.

“What’d Hyung say?” Jisung asked excitedly. “Are they coming? Jinnie and I wouldn’t mind, Hyung, really!” Chan turned to Minho and glared.

“You already told people they were coming?” He demanded. “ _Minho!_ ”

“We were in the same room when I was calling my mom!” Minho said defensively, but for all he was playing innocent, he had a devious glint in his eyes that said that he knew exactly what he was doing in letting the September Twins in on his schemes. Chan was strong enough to face one dongsaeng’s pleading, two even. But _three?_ A quick glance was all it took to realize that Minho’s reinforcements were starry-eyed and positively vibrating with excitement at the prospect of three four-legged houseguests. There was no point in trying to fight.

“Fine,” he sighed. “But only for the week. And if Hannie and Jinnie die it’s on _your conscience_.”

“Yes!” The three idiots cheered, and Felix and Jisung bounded out of the room to inform the others that “Channie-Hyung said yes! They can come!” while Minho sat back in his seat, looking all too pleased with himself. Everybody _had_ known of Minho’s plan before he had, then. Conniving little shit. He sighed, staring forlornly down at his hot chocolate and wishing that it was spiked with something stronger.

His eldest dongsaeng was quick to reassure him that he had everything under control, the cats wouldn’t be messy and “really, Hyung, you won’t even know they’re here!” Chan wasn’t so sure about that, and when the cats arrived that Friday, he faced them with trepidation.

Minho’s furry friends were really cute, to be sure. And if he lived with anyone other than his band mates, he’d be _thrilled_ to cat-sit with Minho. It really wasn’t the cats’ fault that their household was currently in chaos, they seemed to be as Minho had promised: low-maintenance and well-behaved. Chan only wished he could say the same about his members.

“Hyung, I want to hold one!” Seungmin’s whiny voice penetrated his skull, derailing his train of thought.

“No! You didn’t even remember that I _had_ three cats. You don’t get the privilege of holding them. _“_

“Hyung, come on! You’re letting Felix hold one, Felix didn’t know you had three either!” Chan muttered a “Lord give me patience” and did his best to focus on the task in front of him and ignore the squabbling happening behind him.

“Felix gets a free pass because he didn’t speak Korean before. You don’t have an excuse- _Don’t touch Doongie!_ ”

“Min!” Chan scolded, snapping his head around at the smack of skin-on-skin contact, ready to scold... whoever had been the one to do the hitting. Fortunately, “Min” worked regardless of which one it had been. “No fighting over the cats. Minho, stop being petty. Seungmin, stop being whiny about Minho being petty.”

Minho glowered, but still handed the orange cat in his arms to the second maknae. He handled it like one would a newborn child, not letting go until he was sure Seungmin had a good grip, despite the younger’s sarcastic barb of “Don’t tellme you forgot cats always land on their feet, Hyung, that’s like chapter one in Felines for Dummies.”

Chan ignored Seungmin’s flirtation with death. Minho’s retribution would be swift and brutal enough to teach the boy not to disrespect his Hyungs, anyways, and as long as they were quiet enough to let him focus on getting the scheduling issue sorted, he didn’t care enough to intervene again.

He was startled from his work again by a high-pitched squeal. He whirled around, just in time to see Hyunjin dive for the nearest cat and scoop it into his arms.

“Hyunjin, put the cat down!” Chan cried frantically.

“No!” Hyunjin giggled, bringing the cat up close to his face. Chan wanted to bash his head on the table. This was _exactly_ why he had been against the cats coming to stay. Hyunjin had an affinity for all things cute and cuddly, allergies that could quite literally take his breath away, and absolutely zero impulse control. It was a wicked combination. Chan closed his eyes, counted to ten and tried again. 

“Jinnie. Hyunjin. You’re _allergic_. Put the cat dow- _Don’t press your face into his fur!”_ He rushed forward to try and rescue the cat and Hyunjin from each other.

“But he’s so soft! Feel how soft his hair is! _Feel it,_ Hyung! How can I resist that?”

“Yes, it’s very soft. And it will make your throat swell up if you inhale it directly. Face off the cat’s belly.”

“No.”

“Hyunjin, you have vocal lessons tomorrow! You can’t sing with your throat swollen shut!” Hyunjin pulled his face back, glowering at him all the while. Chan couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he plucked the cat out of Hyunjin’s arms and set it free to roam the living room. 

“Your throat swells shut? Sucks to be you,” Jisung crowed, coming into the room and plopping down on the floor, trying to entice one of the orange cats to come over to him. “I just cough a lot so I’m allowed to touch the cats.” _Not another one._

“Jisung, no,” Chan groaned. “You’ll make your throat all scratchy.”

“That might go well with the edgy track we’re working on, it needs growl in it.”

Jisung gasped delightedly, clapping his hands in excitement. “ _That’s_ what it’sbeen missing! Pass me the cat, Hyung, if I inhale enough now I’ll be able to growl really deep-“ _Heaven help him._

“No. _No_. Minho, don’t you _dare_ hand him that cat. Be a responsible Hyung. _Please_.” Minho, to his credit, did not hand Jisung the cat that he had scooped into his arms. Chan couldn’t tell whether it was because he was looking out for the younger or because he didn’t want to share the cat, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He turned back to Jisung.

“If you want growl in your song then you can ask Changbin or Felix to record it for you. No cat-sniffing.” He fixed the younger with as stern a gaze as he could, given how mystified he was at the words coming out of his own mouth. And the fact that they were _necessary_.

Jisung and Hyunjin were now apparently competing in a whine-off to see whose complaining could grate on his nerves the most. Hyunjin was currently winning in terms of volume, but Jisung’s whining tone was absolutely legendary. The impressive thing was how quickly he could turn it on and off. Sometimes, when Chan was weak, the whining would get Jisung exactly what he wanted because Chan just wanted him to _shut up_. This, Chan decided, was _not one of those times_. 

“If you two don’t pipe down in the next three seconds,” he growled, turning to the younger two rappers. “I will treat you like the kids you want to act like. _Three... Two... One._ ” Blissful silence.

“ _Thank you_. Now go put your dance bags away and don’t touch the cats.” He nodded over to where both the younger boys had dropped their bags on the floor in their haste to trigger their faulty autoimmune systems. Once he was sure that they were on their way to do as he had told, he turned back to finish up his task, sending off the email with a flourish. then shuffling into the kitchen to fix himself a snack.

Shuffling into the kitchen half an hour later, he was met with Hyunjin, draped over the kitchen table and nursing a mug of tea, and it became apparent to Chan that the younger had _not_ listened to him, and had probably gone right back to burying his face in the cat’s fur as soon as his back was turned. The rapper’s breathing was decidedly shallower and had taken on a crackly timbre that would not fare well during vocal lessons. Sighing, pulled open the kitchen medicine stash, pulling out a bottle of nasal spray. 

“I told you not to get too close to the cats,” he scolded, tilting Hyunjin’s head back to stick the nozzle up his nose with no warning. The dancer squawked and flailed, but Chan had used the element of surprise to his advantage; Hyunjin didn’t have time to fight back or whine and by the time he had recovered from his shock, Chan had already stuck the bottle up his other nostril. Chan was proud of himself, normally getting Hyunjin to do anything remotely as unpleasant as getting something shot up his nose took minutes and sometimes hours of bribery, cajoling and/or threats of bodily harm. Sometimes they even had to hold him down, because Hyunjin was prone to turning into an overgrown toddler when they tried to inflict healthy things on him, like cough syrup or vegetables.

He released the younger, who shot upright and scrunched his nose up in discomfort. Hyunjin opened his mouth, probably to complain, so Chan cut him off before he could.

“If you had listened to me and stayed away from the cats this wouldn’t have happened,” he said, turning back to refill the kettle. He added extra water because if Hyunjin had ignored his instructions, Jisung _definitely_ had and would most likely need something to soothe his throat.

“Do you still have your inhaler, or is it expired?”

“Dunno,” Hyunjin said, rubbing his now-very-red nose. Chan sighed and rifled through the cupboard again, extracting Hyunjin’s inhaler and one of Felix’s.

“Expired,” he said after close examination. “I should have checked them earlier. We’ll use Felix’s, I think his prescription is similar to yours. Come here.” He tilted the younger’s head up.

“Breathe deep.” Hyunjin obeyed, and once he had a steady rhythm going Chan administered one puff, and then another of Felix’s medication. Returning Felix’s inhaler to its designated spot in the cupboard, Chan looked down at the label on Hyunjin’s.

“That word means ‘refill,’ right?” He asked, pointing to the word on Hyunjin’s puffer and the number that followed it. Hyunjin nodded.

“So if you take it into a pharmacy and ask for a new one, they should be able to without a prescription?”

“I think so,” Hyunjin shrugged. 

“You can do it tomorrow when you and Felix go grocery shopping after lessons.”

Hyunjin nodded, sniffling, and Chan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“And no more touching the cats until you have your own meds again, you can’t rely on Felix’s.” He pinned Hyunjin with a warning look, and Hyunjin sulked back up at him. 

“They’re cute,” he said defensively.

“They’ll kill you,” Chan retorted.

“Death? That’s a little extreme, Hyung,” Hyunjin snorted, rolling his eyes. Chan thought that was a little rich coming from the dancer, who was the _king_ if hyperbole when it came to his own personal woes.

“Drink your tea,” he told the dancer. “And so help me, Hyunjin, _if I get scolded for your voice not being up to snuff in lessons tomorrow_...” Hyunjin just pouted and went back to sipping at the mug. Chan hummed in satisfaction, turning to add a generous dollop of honey to one of the steeping mugs on the counter. Levelling Hyunjin with one more warning look, he picked up the mug and made his way out of the room to find Jisung and force tea down his throat before he decided to destroy his vocal cords trying to record himself growling.

Jisung was faring better than Hyunjin, at least, but that wasn’t saying much. He sounded vaguely like he had smoked a few cigarettes but at least he was breathing normal. Nevertheless, Chan slipped the tea into his hand and reminded him once more that he was not allowed to destroy his vocal cords by singing right now (better safe than sorry), and then offered the younger some of their supply of allergy medication (the stuff that made Jisung extra drowsy and put him to sleep, but Chan would never admit to knowing that) and the two made their way back to the living room to join the others. Jisung lasted all of half an hour before he started to doze off on Chan’s shoulder. Chan shook him awake and he stumbled off to get ready for bed without any fuss or fight. Chan doubted the younger producer would even stay awake for his ritual nighttime jaunt down the YouTube rabbit hole. Good.

Hyunjin also went down easily (Chan suspected Minho had spiked the boy’s second mug of tea with the same allergy medication), and Seungmin followed soon after. Felix and Jeongin took significantly more persuasion because “the others are asleep so they can’t steal the cats from us again, Hyung! We need to take advantage!” The third time that he had to get out of bed to chase them back into theirs, Chan had resorted to threatening _consequences_ that he didn’t feel like following through on (because he couldn’t honestly say that he wouldn’t try the same thing and he didn’t want to be called a hypocrite again). They had been suspiciously quiet on their retreat back into their bedroom.

He only realized _why_ they were so quiet when Minho, who had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, showed him the incriminating (and pretty damn adorable) evidence on his phone the next morning: Photos of the two of them curled up on Jeongin’s bunk, tangle of limbs, and two cats tucked in between them. He would be worried at the lack of covering, but it was still early fall so the weather wasn’t cold, and they had each other and the cats for body heat.

He chuckled to himself as he migrated back to his room to change from night-time pyjamas to daytime pyjamas (HE didn’t have any schedules today, take that, Hyunjin!). He had barely slipped into his sweat pants and hoodie when he was interrupted again.

“HYUNG?” Came a call from down the hall, the echoing quality of the voice giving away the room of origin. Their bathroom tiles had a habit amplifying the various shrieks, arguments and in-shower concerts that went on within those four walls so that they could be heard throughout the dorm.

“Yes?” He called back.

“Where are the allergy pills?” The disembodied voice- Jisung’s, he noted absently- hollered. Chan sighed, following it to the source. The bathroom door was open when he got there, as was the medicine cabinet, half of whose contents had been dropped carelessly on the counter and in the sink.

“Were you trying to sniff the cats again?” He asked exasperatedly.

“No!” Jisung said indignantly. “I was just petting them!” Chan rolled his eyes and scoured the counter and then the bottles remaining in the cupboard, pulling a the bottle of pills and passing it to the boy. It had been exactly where Chan had put it the night before and _right in front of Jisung’s nose_.

“Not that one,” Jisung whined. “That one makes me sleepy. Where’s the stuff your mom sent?”

His mom often included Australian brands of over-the-counter medications for him and Felix in her care packages, since they were more “used to” Australian types and doses. One of the bottles in the last box had been Claratyne for Felix, whose seasonal allergies had been acting up with the particularly bad bout of fine dust that had kicked up a month back. He scanned the shelf for the familiar English logo, but came up empty.

“It’s not in here,” he said, frowning. There had been at least half a bottle left when he checked at the beginning of the week (before the cats’ arrival). So there was no way it was gone now. He glanced around again.

“Maybe Hyunjin has it,” he suggested. The youngest producer’s eyes had been quite red when he had crossed paths with Chan en route to the kitchen, maybe he had forgotten to put the pills back. “You can go ask hi-“

“HYUNJIN!” He was cut off by Jisung’s yell reverberating off the tiles and throughout the room.

“Jisung!” He scolded. “That was right in my ear! **_Go_** and ask him, he had headphones in before, he won’t hear if you yell.”

“I’ll just yell louder. **YA! HYUNJIN-AH!** ” Chan sighed.

“YEAH?” Came Hyunjin’s response.

“ALLERGY MEDS?”

“KITCHEN SINK!” Jisung nodded, darting out of the room and leaving Chan behind to put all the medication back in it’s designated spot. He vaguely noted the sound of the front door slamming. As soon as he was done, a loud yelp from around the corner made him jump.

“What happened?” He demanded as he whipped around into the hallway.

“It bit me!” Changbin exclaimed, cradling his hand and glowering at the orange cat at his feet.

“You must have been doing something wrong, then,” Minho said as he sauntered over and plucked the cat up from beside the shorter rapper.

“I was just petting him!”

“On his belly?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why,” Minho shrugged. “Soonie doesn’t like that. You get no sympathy from me.” Chan sighed.

“Do you need help, Bin? Are you bleeding?”

“It’s fine,” Changbin waved him off, shuffling off in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll just put a bandage on it.”

“Clean it first!” Chan called as Changbin disappeared into to bathroom.

“We’re out of antiseptic!” Changbin’s bellowed response echoed off the tiles.

They were? Come to think of it, Chan didn’t remember seeing any in among the mess of medication that Jisung left out.

“ALRIGHT, WHO USED THE LAST OF THE ANTISEPTIC?” He called out. If the kids could yell across the dorm then he could too.

“INNIE DID!” Someone called from the depths.

“NO!” Came Jeongin’s 90-decibel denial. “IT WAS FELIX-HYUNG!”

“IT WAS NOT! YOU TOUCHED IT LAST!”

“Boys!” Chan groaned as both Jeongin and Seungmin emerged from different rooms to argue more efficiently.

Lucky for him, the boys concluded their little squabble quickly and with no intervention necessary, and came to the understanding that _yes_ , Felix had been the last to _use_ the antiseptic, but Jeongin had been the one to throw away the empty tube. Neither of them felt the need to enlighten him as to what they had been doing for both Felix and Jeongin to need first aid in the first place. Chan then reminded them that any one of them who witnessed the last of the antiseptic being used could have informed him that they needed more, or bought more themselves. He received a couple of unapologetic shrugs for his trouble. _Kids_.

He left the two to their own devices and slumped onto the couch, shooting off a text to Felix to add a bottle of antiseptic ointment to the shopping list. Then a second text asking Felix to convince their manager (who had driven him and Hyunjin to lessons and the grocery store) to buy him a bottle of something strong and alcoholic to get him through the week. Felix sent him the screenshot of their group promise not to drink for a year in return. He huffed a laugh and sent a couple middle finger emojis (Felix knew he wasn’t serious about the alcohol _or_ the obscene gestures, so he was fine) and then dropped his phone on the couch. One of the orange cats, closer inspection revealed it to be Doongie, hopped into his lap and started to purr. He smiled tiredly and scratched him behind the ears. _Only six more days to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if I got the cats' genders and markings wrong, there were conflicting sources. ;)


	13. I Solemnly Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chan tries to prove to management that Stray Kids don’t have a cursing problem... Do they? They don’t, right? Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Excessive use of curse words in this chapter.

Chan was the first person to admit that maybe Stray Kids were not as careful as they should be when it came to censoring inappropriate language. He would even go so far as to admit that maybe he was a part of that problem, although he’d be just as quick to point out that he should be cut some slack. He was, after all, Australian, and Australians tended to have looser tongues than most when it came to cursing. That being said, he (and the rest of the team) knew better than to curse on broadcasts, live shows and tapings. And they were good at being professional. For Stray Kids, swearing was an at-home-and-behind-closed-doors-only kind of thing. At least, Chan had _thought_ they had it mostly under control. Management, it seemed, begged to differ.

After what their higher-ups deemed to be a very, _very_ close call during an overly-competitive game of Guess The Song on Idol Radio (Hyunjin’s muttered string of curses had apparently only _just_ been out of range of the microphones), they had all been pulled into a meeting and lectured about the importance of public image and censoring language on-screen so their segments wouldn’t be cut from programming. After THAT lecture was over, Chan was kept back for _another one_ because he was the leader and the team’s reputation was supposed to be kind of his responsibility. _That_ meeting hadn’t been fun for him.

“I’ve seen how much you swear in practice, Chan. And at home, and in the car. Not just you, either, your whole team. It’s a small wonder you kids haven’t slipped up on a live broadcast yet.”

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Chan couldn’t help but huff.

“Oh, you don’t think so?” Their manager said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you almost tell Felix to ‘sit his ass down’ during filming yesterday?” _That wasn’t fair_. Chan wasn’t supposed to be the one _receiving_ the eyebrow, he was supposed to be the one _giving it_ to the other members. Being on this end of it _sucked_.

“I didn’t though,” Chan said pedantically. “I stopped myself.”

“That’s not the point, Chan,” Their manager sighed. “Tell you what. You keep a tally of how many times one of you swears in the next twenty-four hours. If you can look me in the eyes after twenty-four hours and honestly tell me that you kids don’t swear that much, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Deal,” Chan said. Hopefully the members would prove him right.

They didn’t prove him right. In fact, they proved him _dead wrong_. He hung his head in defeat as he slouched in the board room swivel chair as their manager leaned against the whiteboard and crossed his arms inquisitorially.

“You win,” Chan muttered, not even bringing himself to look the elder in the eye.

“What was the total?” Their manager asked resignedly.

“I don’t think you want to know,” Chan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re right, I don’t,” the manager said. “But tell me anyways.”

“Upwards of two hundred times between the eight of us,” Chan cringed. The older man whistled.

“And what are you going to do about it?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” Chan admitted. “But I’ll figure something out.”

“I‘m sure you will,” the manager said. “Let me know if I can help.” Chan nodded, and the older man shooed him out of the company building because “if I don’t get you out now you’ll hole yourself up thinking of a solution and then I’ll find you here tomorrow morning at six am with no solution and three new demo tracks instead,” which Chan would find offensive if it weren’t true.

Instead of holing himself up in the studio, he scoured the shelves of Daiso for inspiration. Daiso had everything, surely there would be something that would give him ideas. And he needed to buy new drinking glasses anyways because a couple of theirs had broken in an incident with an airborne couch pillow a few days back and hadn’t been replaced yet. He perused the home goods aisles. He could do the age-old wash your mouth with soap trick, his parents had often threatened him with that often in his childhood, but... No. _Gross_. Eventually he happened upon a sale display of notebooks. Ah, now _there_ was an idea. He picked out eight notebooks, then after some deliberation, some colourful pens and a couple sheets of stickers. Armed with his crafty plunder, he returned to the dorms.

“TEAM MEETING!” He bellowed as he kicked off his shoes. “EVERYONE TO THE LIVING ROOM!”

He spread out the notebooks, markers and stickers on the floor in the middle of the circle. “It’s arts and crafts time, kids,” he announced. “Everybody grab a notebook and decorate the cover to your heart’s content. Make sure your name is visible on the front.”

“What are these for?” Hyunjin asked.

“I’ll tell you when everyone’s done. Stickers?” He handed Hyunjin a sheet of cartoon animal stickers, shaking his head fondly as the younger rapper’s eyes lit up. Once everybody was done decorating their respective notebooks, Chan collected them all again.

“Okay so here’s the thing,” he said, addressing the boys as he put the newly-decorated notebooks back in the bag.

“Manager-Hyung just finished berating me for how much cussing we do so we’re doing a ‘Dirty Language Detox.’ For the next few weeks until I say otherwise, any and all curse words are off-limits.”

“What? Why?” Jisung whined.

“Because if you don’t start cursing less, I get yelled at and if I get yelled at, I’m going to come back and yell at you.”

“That’s going to happen anyways.”

Chan bit back a groan. “Look, management has a fair point. The cursing _has_ gotten out of hand here, we swear way too much. And that’s coming from an Australian.”

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Hyunjin retorted.

“I did a count of the ones I heard over twenty-four hours, we swore over 200 times between us.”

“I bet at least half of that was you, Felix-Hyung and Jisung-Hyung,” Jeongin said.

“I didn’t swear once in those twenty-four hours,” Chan reported.

“Out loud,” Felix added unnecessarily.

“Out loud,” Chan confirmed, rolling his eyes.

“But what are the notebooks for?” Seungmin asked suspiciously.

“Ah. Those,” Chan said. He braced himself for the absolute torrent of whining and complaining that would set in as soon as he broke the news. “Those are for the lines you’ll have to write if I catch you swearing.”

“Wha- HYUNG! That’s not _fair!_ ”

“Lines? Are you kidding?”

“Come on!”

“Hyung what the hell!”

“You can’t be serious!”

“You swear just as much as we do!”

... And _there_ was torrent. He sighed.

“Hey. Hey. HEY!” He said sharply. “Calm down!” The boys quieted, their vocal protests replaced by various sulks, pouts and death glares.

“It’s not just you, I have a notebook too. You know I wouldn’t make the team do something that I wasn’t prepared to do myself,” Chan said, engaging his Leader Voice (TM) so that the boys would listen and (hopefully) cooperate. “This isn’t a permanent thing, okay? It’s just an exercise in self-discipline, because we need one. Once we’ve kicked the bad habit we can relax the rules again. But seriously, guys. It’s gotten out of hand, and that’s not cool.”

“This is stupid,” Jisung huffed.

“It’s gonna happen whether you have a bad attitude about it or not, Han Jisung,” Chan said. “And don’t you dare call me a hypocrite because I’m doing it right alongside you. It’s not that bad if you control yourself, ten lines for every curse.”

Most of them looked placated by that, although Jisung and Felix were both still glaring daggers at him. They were the biggest perpetrators of the cursing, which probably had something to do with it, but their negative reaction just reassured Chan that he was on the right track with this course of action.

“We start tomorrow. I’ll keep the tallies on my phone and we’ll write the lines together every night before bed,” he said. He glanced down at his watch.

“Speaking of bedtime, it’s almost midnight and some of you have school tomorrow. And even if you don’t, you’re not staying up late because we were all up till all hours last night.” He hated to be the bearer of _more_ bad news, but the kids _did_ get crabby when they didn’t sleep enough and he didn’t want to deal with any more whining the next day than he had to. After checking that all the boys were actually doing as they were told, he shuffled off down the hall to his room, tucking the swear journals safely in the back of his wardrobe.

At the end of day one of the new regime, only Seungmin and Jeongin had gotten away unscathed: Seungmin because he was a lot more self-control than most of the team, and Jeongin because even though the rest of the team cursed like sailors, they always yelled at Jeongin when he did so, because he was “the baby, and babies don’t get to use that kind of language.” Jeongin usually protested the double standard quite vehemently, but it was serving him well in their current conditions. _You’re welcome, Jeongin_.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Chan wrote the personal totals next to the date on the first page of everybody’s notebook (Felix had the most at a whopping hundred and seventy lines, but Jisung was a close second at a hundred and thirty. Everyone else fell somewhere in the thirty-to-eighty line mark). For the two youngest, he wrote the date and drew a big happy face across the page, because positive feedback reinforces good behaviour. He also wrote out the line that they had to copy on the inside cover of the notebook: _I will watch how I speak because my words have power and I have a responsibility to use them for good_. Minho had been with him when he was prepping the notebooks and griped about the phrase because “We’re not Boy Scouts, Hyung, why’d you have to make it sound like a goddamn pledge?” Chan crossed out the 40 on the top of Minho’s page and replaced it with a 50.

Once he was done, he herded everyone into the living room and started handing out the cutely-decorated notebooks and colourful pens, giving the others their instructions to “write the number of lines at the top of the page, number them, and do it neatly or you’ll have to do them again.” Some of them shrugged and got down to work. Some of them whined and dawdled, before Seungmin and Jeongin (who were seated cross-legged on the couch and were in the room solely to crow over everyone else) pointed out that they wouldn’t be able to leave until they finished. One member took one look at the total on his page and threw his notebook at Chan’s head.

 _”Han Jisung!_ ” Chan scolded sharply as he dodged the projectile.

“This is bullshit!” The younger producer cried. “A hundred and thirty lines!?”

“A hundred and forty now,” Chan said, using his own pen to scratch out the total and add ten more before holding it out to the boy to retrieve.

“I’m not doing it,” Jisung said, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin. Chan rolled his eyes internally. _Tantrums, Jisung? Really?_

“You are,” he said, standing up slowly.

“I’m not.”

Chan sighed to himself. Guess they were doing things the hard way tonight. Gently tilting Hyunjin’s head back down towards the notebook from which he had looked up to watch the drama, he stepped over the pile of rainbow gel pens and tugged Jisung up with him before dragging him off to the corner of the living room, Jisung fighting him every step of the way.

“Hyung!” The cherub-cheeked boy whinged, trying to shove him off. Chan held steady and turned the boy firmly to face the corner.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he said. “If you didn’t want to write those lines you should have put on a filter this morning. Stay here until you’re ready to put on your big boy pants and accept the consequences for your actions.” He returned to the writing circle, tugging Han’s notebook closer and changing the total to a hundred and fifty to account for the “fuck this” the boy had muttered under his breath as he had walked away.

Twenty minutes later, almost everybody had finished and passed inspection. Only Felix, who had the most lines, and Chan himself remained. He called Jisung back over and handed him the notebook. Jisung scowled, but reluctantly accepted it.

“This is gonna take forever,” he whined.

“Let’s get going then,” Chan said, tapping the page with his own pen. “The sooner we start the sooner we’re finished.” Jisung blinked up at him.

“You waited for me?” The younger asked, hopeful smile playing at his lips.

“Misery loves company,” he responded, offering Jisung a purple pen from the pile. Jisung took it, grinning, and quietly started writing. Chan took his sweet time with his own thirty lines, pausing to check over Felix’s lines before shooing him off to bed and fending off Jisung’s graffiti attempts whenever the 3racha maknae got bored or distracted. As they were writing, Jisung started inching closer and closer, until he was practically glued to Chan’s side. Smiling to himself, Chan threw his arm over the younger’s back and started running a hand through his hair. Jisung hummed contendedly, head dropping down to rest on the notebook page in front of him. He was running out of steam.

“How many more, Sung?” Chan asked, subtly redirecting the boy’s attention back to his page before he got the line imprinted on his face in purple ink.

“Thirteen,” Jisung yawned.

“I bet you can’t finish them all in three minutes,” Chan challenged. As expected, Jisung’s head popped up at that.

“You’re on,” The rapper grinned, wriggling forward to readjust his paper. “Set the timer.”

Chan chuckled and pulled out his phone. Two minutes and forty-seven seconds later, Jisung dropped the pen with a flourish.

“Done!” He crowed, sliding the notebook over.

After briefly scanning Jisung’s penmanship (he had done so for the others, it was only fair) Chan ruffled the squirrel boy’s hair and slid both their notebooks in the bag with the rest, to be taken back to his room later.

A quick glance at his phone showed that it was almost one in the morning. _Well_. That went later than anticipated. He supposed that was to be expected, it would take time to settle into the new routine. He made a mental note to start on the lines earlier in the evening as he ushered Jisung down the hall so they could brush teeth. A quick apology and a hug goodnight later, they parted ways to climb into their respective beds to ready themselves for another day of not swearing. _Yeah, right, Chan. In your dreams._

The first half of the next day’s numbers were predictably similar to the first. This was to be expected, they say it took twenty-one days to form a habit. The boys had done decently well, Chan thought, nobody had broken the hundred-line mark as of yet, but the night was still young and he didn’t have much faith in some members’ stamina now that they were out of the company building. Given the palpable irritation simmering within the company van, he didn’t think they were going to last twenty minutes.

In fact, they lasted only five, before Jisung’s obnoxiously loud and deliberately off-key singing grated on Felix’s last nerve.

“For fuck’s sake, Han! Shut up!” The younger Aussie groaned in English.

“Pardon your French,” Chan said sarcastically, turning to give the boy a disapproving look. “That’s another ten.”

“That _was_ French, actually,” Felix said smugly. “ _Phoque_ is French for seal.”

“It is not.”

“It is. Look it up.”

Chan pulled out his phone and opened the browser. He tried to spell it out in google, but French didn’t follow the same phonetic rules as English and he wasn’t about to ask Felix for help, so instead he typed in ‘French word for seal.’ He clicked the audio button on Google translate.

“...Okay, so it is,” Chan said. “I’m both impressed and disappointed in you.”

“ _Phoque_ you,” Jisung cackled, clapping like a seal.

“ _Phoque_ you too,” Felix retorted, whacking Jisung in the head with his backpack.

“Alright, alright, _enough_ ,” Chan groaned, wincing at the side-eye he was getting from the manager. _He was trying, okay?_

“It’s not really swearing, you can’t get mad at us,” Felix said smuggly. _He’d see about that._

“ _Phoque, phoque, phoque, phoque_ ,” Jisung sing-songed, and soon Hyunjin joined in, while Felix laughed and egged them on. They thought they were so clever, but regardless of spelling, the phonetics were the same.

“That’s an extra page of lines” Chan said, raising his eyebrow sternly. “For all three of you.”

“ _What?_ ” Felix yelped. “But I only said it twice! And it’s not even a swear word!” 

“But you also started this whole mess in the first place,” Chan said, opening the notes app to update their tallies. “And it certainly sounded like cursing to me.”

“That’s not _fair_ ,” Felix whined.

“Do you want to spend time in the corner before lines like Sungie did last night? Because you sound like you want to spend time in the corner before lines like Sungie did last night,” Chan warned. Felix sulked at him.

“No,” he muttered sullenly.

“Careful, Yongbokie, you’re on thin _phoque_ -ing ice,” Minho said, because he was never one to let go of an opportunity to rile up the others. Chan gripped his seatbelt tightly in his hands to stop himself from diving over the seat to pummel his eldest dongsaeng.

“And an extra ten for Minho as well,” he said. Minho rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest and silence finally, finally settled over the van, until...

“Oh, _shit!_ ”

“Changbin!” Chan‘s exasperated cry mingled with Jeongin’s squeaked “Sorry, Hyung!”

“I mean... shoot,” Changbin said sheepishly as he took Jeongin’s hoodie from him to mop up the water the maknae had spilled on him.

“I thought I told you to work on the swearing,” their manager scolded.

“We are,” Chan sighed. “We were doing well until we got in the car.” He pulled out his phone to add Changbin’s latest infraction to the tally. _Hopefully they’d get into the groove soon._

A few days in showed marginal improvement. Felix and Jisung’s line counts especially- while they were still higher than the median, they were no longer sentencing themselves to three times the lines that everyone else was writing. Most of the boys were consistently down to under sixty lines a night now, and Chan was proud of the progress, but based on the feedback he was currently getting, that streak might not last.

“You can’t seriously expect us not to cuss during games night,” Felix said incredulously. They were all gathered in the living room for their mandatory bi-weekly Team Bonding Night.

“Can and do,” Chan said. “We play competitive games on variety shows all the time without swearing.”

“But that’s different,” Changbin whined.“We’re on the clock then, it’s easier to filter when we’re working!” This was a fair point, but Chan wasn’t about to back down. This was a habit-forming exercise.

“Tell you what,” He said, leaning back on his hands. “Everyone who successfully gets through games night without swearing gets their lines for the night cut in half.” His boys would do almost anything if he made it a competition.

“You can’t halve zero,” Jeongin said. _Show off_. Chan was so proud. “So what’s in it for me?”

“We’ll talk at the end if you’re still at zero,” Chan said. Jeongin nodded, satisfied, and Chan turned back to the pile of games in the middle of the living room.

“What are we starting with?” He asked. Seungmin put his hand up.

“Can we play charades?”

“Sure, we can play charades.”

He shouldn’t have agreed to charades. Especially since they didn’t actually have the official cards in their possession, and thus had resorted to ripping up slips of paper and writing their own prompts. He was sure his eyes would never recover from... whatever it was Minho was acting out so enthusiastically. It didn’t seem like to be g-rated, but that didn’t mean anything. Minho never turned down an opportunity to body roll, for all Chan knew he was doing an interpretive dance of a mermaid or something. The rest of the dancer’s team, comprised of Changbin, Jisung and Jeongin, seemed to be having quite the time trying to guess the four-word phrase, and they were running out of time.

“Dog! It’s dog! Puppy?”

“Spending money? Pet store! You’re in a pet store?”

“I know what it is!” The maknae groaned.

“ _Then say it!_ ” Changbin and Jisung yelled. The two producers were competitive to a fault, and they only had seconds left on the clock.

“I don’t want to!” Jeongin whined, and Chan heard a snicker to his left.

“ ** _Say. It!_** ” The rappers said, rounding on the youngest. Jeongin stomped his foot in a rare show of maknaeity, but when Minho’s death glare joined those of the other two, he slumped his shoulders and said dejectedly, “Fuck Bitches, Get Money.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then the room erupted into chaos as the loud cheers from Jeongin’s team mixed with the shrill cackles and jeers from the members of Chan’s own team. Chan glanced at Jeongin, who had crossed his arms and was pouting magnificently at his own misfortune. Shaking off his own shock, he beckoned the maknae over sternly. Jeongin shuffled over, metaphorical tail between his legs, lip jutting out and face flushed as he flopped down beside him to sulk.

“I didn’t wanna say it,” the vocalist pouted. “ _They made me_! It’s not fair!” Chan sighed.

“ ** _Oi!_** ” He yelled over the lingering chaos. They all turned to stare at him. “Who wrote that one?” Silence.

“Nobody wants to own up? Fine then. Minho, hand me the slip.” The dancer shrugged and pulled the paper from his pocket, handing it over. Chan peered at the writing. It didn’t look familiar, whoever it was had gone through pains to make sure they didn’t get recognized. That kind of attention to detail could only mean one thing.

“Kim Seungmin,” he said, turning to the second maknae sat on his other side. Seungmin blinked up at him with what to the untrained eye would look like an innocent stare, but Chan knew better.

“This is your slip, isn’t it?”

“No!” Seungmin protested. The vocalist was a _fantastic liar_ , so Chan had put in great efforts to learn how to read him. There weren’t many tells, but Chan knew what to look for. This time, the abortive twitch in the back of his jaw gave him away.

“It is,” Chan said, crossing his arms in a show of disapproval.

“Hyung, he set me up!” Jeongin whined from beside him, pointing a finger at Seungmin across Chan’s chest. “He didn’t like that he had lines and I didn’t so he made it so I’d be forced to! It’s not fair!”

Normally Chan wouldn’t take Jeongin’s accusations against his youngest Hyung at face value, because the two were always bickering and trying to rile each other up. This time, however, Jeongin’s claims checked out. It had, after all, been Seungmin’s idea to play charades, and Seungmin who had _insisted_ on holding the bowl of prompts and had been hugging it to his chest possessively since the game started. The timing had been too perfect to be just a coincidence.

“Kim Seungmin?” He prompted, pinning the teen with a don’t-you-dare-lie-to-me look. The second maknae looked a little too cocky.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who swore,” the vocalist said, smothering a snicker.

“But you _are_ the one who wrote the prompt to make sure someone would,” Chan said.

“You never specified that the ban included writing,” Seungmin argued. _Brat_. Some of the others were snickering now, too, and Jeongin had grabbed onto his arm. Chan didn’t have to see the maknae to know that he was giving him ‘I’m-the-baby-please-don’t-be-mad-at-me’ eyes.

“It was implied, and you’re not getting out of those lines,” Chan said, staring the main vocalist down. “And since you _tricked_ Jeongin into saying them, you can do his share for the words you made him say as well.” Jeongin cheered beside him as Seungmin’s face fell.

“No!” He protested.

“Yes,” Chan said firmly. “Forty more lines.” He pulled out his phone to add the new lines to Seungmin’s total, batting the vocalist’s hands away when he tried to interfere.

With any luck, seeing Seungmin having to face repercussions for his mean trick would quash any ideas of an all-out curse war that may have been implanted in the others’ brains by tonight’s shenanigans. Because otherwise, Chan wouldn’t put it past the kids to turn the whole exercise into a competition to see who could get the most people to swear and that was the opposite effect from the one he was going for.

“And as for you,” He said, turning to Jeongin, who was smugly sticking his tongue out at Seungmin. “I better not hear either of those words coming out of your mouth again. Got it?” Jeongin blinked up at him, tongue retreating back inside his mouth and cheeks still tinted pink. He pursed his lips, probably to make yet another protest against the double standard, but wisely decided against it and muttered a “Yes, Hyung.”

“Good. Now, are we ready to move on to a game that _doesn’t_ involve cursing?” He asked, blatantly ignoring the glower that a now-very-moody Seungmin was sending him.

“How bout Uno?” Hyunjin suggested. Bold of him to assume that Uno wouldn’t result in _at least_ three members increasing their tally.

The next day, Chan found himself alone in their studio, tweaking one of their potential tracks that Seungmin was going to sing the guide for later that day. All of the sudden, the door flew open with a **_Bang!_** startling Chan enough to make him drop the pen he was using and hit his knee on the corner of the table. He _only just_ managed to stop himself from yelping out a “ _shit!_ ” as he gritted his teeth and held the soon-to-be-bruised appendage.

“Hyung!” Changbin, the culprit, whined, flopping down in the swivel seat next to Chan and wheeling it closer.

“What is it?” Chan sighed, turning to the younger producer.

“I can’t finish these lyrics,” Changbin pouted, brandishing his own sacred lyrics notebook.

“Why not?” Chan peered at the barely-legible chicken scratch that Changbin was shoving in his face.

“I can’t think of a rhyme,” Changbin sulked. “The only word that fits is “motherfucker.” Chan tried really hard not to facepalm. Seriously. _Really hard._ Perhaps Changbin sensed this, because he tugged his notebook back and cradled it to his chest. 

“That one doesn’t count,” the rapper said.

“It totally does,” Chan said, pulling out his phone.

“Hyung, it’s for lyrics! It’s part of the creative process! Some songs just need curse words!”

“Changbin, even if we weren’t doing the no-swearing thing, there’s no way the company is releasing a song with those lyrics. A song like that will never get released and you _know it_.” He glanced up at the rapper, who was still hugging his notebook and pouting profoundly. “Now is there something you actually need help with, or were you just trying to see if you could get away with swearing by categorizing it as work? Because if it was the second one, you can tell Jisung that that’s not gonna fly.” Changbin spluttered, before his shoulders sank in defeat.

“Fine,” The boy muttered, turning to shuffle out of the room. As expected, Chan caught a glimpse of Jisung’s silhouette in the hall before the door closed behind Changbin. The 3racha maknae had evidently been attempting to eavesdrop, even though the room was soundproof. Chan sighed and turned back to his work.

When he returned home that evening and stepped into the dorm, the first thing he heard was “Oh fuck off, Yoon-ah” coming out of the maknae’s mouth and _that just wouldn’t do_. Chan peeked around the corner to the living room, finding Jeongin relaxing on the couch, video-calling his younger brother. Chan opened his mouth chastise him for his language but the boy’s mom beat him to it, motherly scolding tone wafting through the tinny speakers as she entered the screen.

 _“I’ve already told you twice today, don’t talk to your brother like that! You’re a Hyung, you’re supposed to be a better influence on him!”_ Jeongin groaned, flopping over on the couch as he tried unsuccessfully to interject and explain himself. Chan heard his own name mentioned and he keyed back into the conversation.

_“Does Chan-ah let you get away with this much disrespect? Maybe I need to talk to him.”_

“No, Mom- No! That’s not-“

_“Put him on the phone, Jeongin, I want to talk to him.”_

“He’s not here,” Jeongin tried.

“Yeah he is,” Chan said, sauntering into the room. Jeongin yelped and flailed in surprise, dropping his iPad, an absent-minded “Shit!” passing though his lips as it bounced off the couch. Chan swooped in and plucked it off the floor before the maknae could take it back.

“Hello Eomeonim,” he greeted the woman respectfully, batting Jeongin’s grabby hands away as he sat down on the couch. “You wanted to talk to me?”

_“Chan-ah, hello! I wanted to talk to you about my son’s attitude. Has he been giving you any trouble?”_ Chan glanced over at the maknae, who was shaking his head frantically off-screen.

“He’s normally good but he has his moments,” Chan said, trying to stifle a laugh as Jeongin kicked him in the thigh.

 _“I think he’s getting too comfortable. Did you hear the kind of language that was coming out of his mouth just now?”_ The woman said.

“I did,” Chan said, raising his eyebrow at Jeongin, who glowered at him. “And I can’t say I’m thrilled.”

“Hyung!” Jeongin whined, embarrassed.

“Say sorry to your mother,” Chan scolded him.

 _“And your brother,”_ the woman added. Jeongin rolled his eyes, and Chan reached over and flicked his forehead. Jeongin sulked and scooted next to Chan so he was in-screen.

“I’m sorry for my disrespect,” he said, bowing in apology. He mother hummed in satisfaction.

_“And your brother?”_

“He started it!” Jeongin yelped in protest. Chan elbowed him in the ribs, and Jeongin scowled at him but reluctantly sank into a half-assed bow.

“Sorry, Yoon-ah,” he muttered. Chan rolled his eyes and cuffed the back of his head.

“Try that again,” he said. Jeongin sighed, but obliged, much more properly this time and Chan ruffled his hair. 

“Eomeonim,” he asked, scooting away from Jeongin again. “Out of curiosity, many times did you hear him swear?” Jeongin groaned.

 _“I heard about seven or eight,”_ the woman said. _“I’ve been trying to get these boys to mind their language for years.”_

“Seven or eight, you say?” Chan asked, glancing over at the maknae and raising his eyebrow.

“No!” Jeongin argued. “That’s an exaggeration!”

 _“It’s not,”_ cackled Jeongyoon through the screen.

“Shut up, Yoon-ah,” Jeongin muttered. Chan rolled his eyes and pulled the maknae closer.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised Jeongin’s mother, who nodded her thanks. Jeongin whined beside him, and he reached up to cover the boy’s mouth absentmindedly as he bid the two family members goodbye. He then turned back to Jeongin and handed him the iPad to keep talking with his family, pulling out his own phone and making a point of showing Jeongin the “+80” added to his tally. Jeongin’s pout only grew.

After telling Jeongin to enjoy the rest of his call and then come to dinner, Chan stood up from the couch to go help Minho and Felix set the table. Jeongin shuffled to were sitting not long after, and all the boys settled down to eat.

“Where’s the fucking salt?” Felix called from where he was perched on a _rolling chair_ to rummage through the top shelves of the cupboards.

“Get down from there before you break your ankle!” Chan cried. “And watch your language!”

“I’m not gonna fall- Ah, _shit!”_ Felix yelped as the chair rolled out from under him, sending him tumbling to the ground, avalanche of chip bags raining down on his head.

“What was that?” Chan asked, raising his eyebrow as Felix popped up, seemingly unhurt.

“Shut up,” Felix retorted.

“And what was **_that?_** ” Chan asked again.

“I mean… Please shut up… Hyung?” Felix said like the cheeky little brat he was. “I still can’t find the fu- I mean the damn salt.” Well, that was a _step_ in the right direction at least. Chan rolled his eyes.

“Sit down,” he said. “Hyung will find it, if you keep looking you’ll end up writing lines all night or in the emergency room.” Or writing lines _in_ the emergency room. The wait times could be insanely long. Pushing Felix back towards the table, he returned the rolling office chair to the desk and opened the cupboard to the left of the stove- the one where the salt _belonged-_ and immediately produced the shaker. What a surprise. Shooting a pointed look at Felix, he sat down at the table and added the foul-mouthed boy’s latest three infractions to his tally. And if he made Jeongin and Felix do all the dishes that night after dinner, _well._ They had it coming. And if they complained about having to do the dishes and had to do time in the corner that night before lines, they deserved that too.

The next morning was a Saturday, and Chan was _hoping_ to sleep in and _not be pounced on by two overly-enthusiastic dongsaengs at dawn._ He muffled a groan, trying to roll onto his back to get a look at the two hellions who had him pinned. He stared blearily at the phone Seungmin shoved in his face. His eyes were too blurry. He shook his head to get them to focus again but to no avail. He _was not awake enough for this._

“Hyung, you’re not paying attention, you have to pay attention!” Hyunjin whined from on top of him. Chan grunted, trying to wiggle free to take the phone from Seungmin’s hand. It was then that he realized that the blurriness of the video had nothing to do with his level of conscious and _everything to do with the fact that Seungmin had been laughing so hard the camera never stood a chance at focusing._ It took a few seconds, but Chan eventually recognized the outline of Minho’s bunk, curtain pulled back by another pair of hands (Hyunjin’s, he deduced by process of elimination). The second eldest was still very much unconscious and was muttering something in his sleep that Chan couldn’t decipher thanks to the giggles of the other two. Using all his concentration, he was able to understand little fragments of what Minho was saying. “Where the fuck is my key chain,” Video-Minho muttered. “Ahhhhhh shit, damn, I needed- It’s for the fucking safe where the ahdjhkgrdkf…” And then Minho’s sleep dialogue petered off into incomprehensible gibberish. Chan looked up at the two little imps blankly.

“Hyung, he _swore!”_ Seungmin tattled. Chan would be touched at the two 00’s enthusiasm in assisting him to enforce the ‘no swearing regime’ if they’d actually had a desire to help him. As it stood, they probably just wanted to see Minho get in trouble because they were _brats._

“Thanks for your help, boys,” he yawned but had absolutely zero intent of adding Minho’s sleep-rambling to his tally, even when Hyunjin helpfully offered him his phone. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep but the younger two were persistent. 

“Hyung you have to add them to the swear count!” Seungmin demanded, brandishing Chan’s phone again. “We counted seven, you can go through and verify for yourself.”

“Seungmin, I’m not going to add those,” Chan sighed. “He was _asleep.”_

“So?” Hyunjin said. Chan bit back a groan.

“He was _unconscious_ ,” he emphasized.

“So?”

“So it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, so Minho-hyung can swear in his sleep but _I’m_ the one who gets in trouble when Jeongin’s the one who swears?” Seungmin demanded. Loudly. “How is _that_ fair?”

“’M tryna sleep, shut the fuck up,” Felix groaned. At least, that’s what it _sounded_ like but Felix’s face was still buried in his pillow and he _also_ sounded like he was (mostly) asleep so Chan wouldn’t use it against him. This time.

“You manipulated Jeongin into swearing,” Chan said. “You were the one with the intent to produce the words, even if they came out of someone else’s mouth.” Seungmin pouted. He hated losing arguments.

“And what about me?” Hyunjin demanded. “Minho-hyung _actually swore,_ I just said the French word for an animal!”

“You don’t speak French,” Chan sighed. “But you _do_ know what that word that sounds like it in English. You can’t even name what animal it was.”

“It was a seal,” Felix yawned oh-so-helpfully from his single bed.

“Yeah, it’s a _ssil_ ,” Hyunjin said smugly in his adorable English accent.

“Uh-huh. And what’s ‘seal’ in Korean?” Chan asked. Hyunjin fell silent.

“That’s what I thought. Now go get breakfast or something, I want more sleep.”

“Not hungry yet,” Hyunjin yawned, crawling under Chan’s blankets and pressing his _cold bare toes against Chan’s legs._ “Can you make us fairy bread later?”

“Make your own,” Chan grumped, because he was _not a morning person and wanted to be asleep, dammit._

“But it tastes better when you do it,” Seungmin blinked at him innocently. “And we didn’t swear at all yesterday so we deserve a reward.”

“Fine,” Chan sighed. He could nap later. Seungmin grinned and scampered out of the room, and Hyunjin rolled over and burrowed into Chan’s blankets. Groaning, Chan planted his face in his pillow before hauling himself down the ladder of the bunk bed. Instead of heading to the kitchen first, he went to Hyunjin, Seungmin and Minho’s room to recruit reinforcements. Taking the pillow off Hyunjin’s bed, he whaled Minho over the head with it.

“Mmph! What was that for?” Minho groaned, glowering up at him.

“Because your sleep habits make my life difficult,” Chan said shortly. “Help me make breakfast for the kids.” He chucked Hyunjin’s pillow back on the bed and made his way to the kitchen to find sprinkles for breakfast.

“ _Crikey!”_ Felix yelped a week or two later as he fumbled and dropped, causing Jeongin and Hyunjin to break down in a fit of giggles.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! _Language!”_ Jisung gasped, clutching his chest in an exaggerated show of shock that only served to redouble the hysterics. “That was darn close!”

Chan shook his head fondly, sipping his water as he watched their antics. Sometime in the last week, the boys had combined their collective brainpower to pool together a list of family-friendly alternatives to their usual colourful vernaculars, and ever since then, it had been a competition to see who could use the most in everyday life. Much hilarity had ensued. The positive side effect of this was that lines per capita were at an all-time low. In the last week, nobody had written more than twenty lines a night. _Every single member_ had had _at least_ two nights now where they hadn’t written any, and Chan had never been more proud of them. Apparently their manager agreed, because when he sauntered over to lean against the wall next to Chan on the way out the door, he was grinning.

“I don’t know how you did it, Chan, but it worked,” The older man said. “I haven’t heard any of the boys curse all week!” Chan beamed as the man clapped him on the shoulder and left, leaving the boys to their own devices for the rest of practice.

“You hear that, boys?” Chan called once he was certain the man was out of earshot. “We kicked the habit! Time to retire the notebooks!” There was a rousing cry of a celebratory “Hell yeah!” that echoed throughout the room as the boys took advantage of the return of their freedom of expression. Chan laughed and joined in the rally, because dammit, _he had missed swearing too._ A couple minutes of glorious, explicit cacophony later, the boys had it all out of their systems and returned to dance practice with renewed vigour. Hopefully they could keep the habit going, because Chan did _not_ want to repeat the exercise again any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guess what, You-Know-Who has now been completely written out of all chapters! Woot woot! Also some of them have been adapted quite a bit (Especially the "Quintuple Trouble" ones) so feel free to go back and give those ones another read if you're so inclined! ^^


	14. You Take My Breath Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Felix can't figure out why he can't breathe all of the sudden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around the I Am Not era, AKA Baby Stray Kids so Felix is still very much not used to Korea because he's only been there, like, a year. 
> 
> Everyone say thank you to JiminWreckedSugaBias! I've had this chapter half-written for forever but their comment on my last chapter was exactly the kick in the pants I needed to shake off writers block and actually finish writing it. Thanks, Friend! I hope this chapter satisfies your curiosity.

Felix woke up in the morning and he already felt tired. Not the deep-seated exhaustion of a comeback period, not the kind of tired that came from staying up too late gaming, and not the cozy blankets-and-hot-chocolate fuzzy kind of tired. He wished it were that last one, sleepy-cuddly moods were the _best_ moods to be in. No, this was the bones-are-aching, body-ain’t-working, restless kind of tired. The kind he got as a trainee when he was pulling all-nighters to perfect his dance. But this time he _hadn’t_ been pulling off all-night dance marathons, and yet he still felt... off. He dragged himself out of bed to get ready for the day, barely having the energy to throw on a random pair of track pants and an oversized t-shirt and bucket hat before stumbling out the door for that day’s schedule, not even bothering to tie his shoes. He hadn’t even had the energy to try for breakfast, instead snagging a juice box to sip on in the car. His schedule for the day wasn’t too strenuous, at least, just back-to-back private vocal and rap lessons in the morning and a Danceracha choreo crash-course in the afternoon, where he would meet with the other two dancers to finesse their latest choreography before they endeavoured to coach the other members. Chan sometimes joined as well, but today he was supposed to be in a writing session with the other producers.

Other than feeling inexplicably tired, the first indication that something was wrong came in vocal practice. Nothing felt right as he sang, and vocal exercises that normally came easy to him seemed ten times harder. He lost track of the amount of times he heard the phrases “Breathe deeper! Breathe from your toes! Expand your diaphragm! Balloons! Your lungs need to be balloons!” over the course of the hour-long lesson.

Chalking it up to an off-day, he moved onto his rap lesson, but that was just more of the same. Phrases he could normally get out in one breath we’re taking him two or three, and something in his throat felt weird. It didn’t hurt, he just felt... off. Had he strained his vocal cords in lessons? Every time he took a breath he could feel the tension on them, and not in a good way. He swallowed heavily, but it didn’t feel like anything went down, and he choked back a cough as he accidentally inhaled his own spit.

“Are you okay, Felix?” The instructor asked, concerned. “Your voice seems tired today.” Felix nodded.

“I’m fine,” he said, offering a small smile. “It’s just a little stuffy in here.” The instructor nodded and mercifully opened the window so Felix could get some fresh air. He cleared his throat, downed half his water bottle and started the bars again.

He had made very little progress during that lesson, and despite his teacher’s understanding and reassurances, he was frustrated and off-kilter going into their choreo session, especially when he found that even _dance_ wasn’t working for him today. The three Danceracha members had already learned all the choreography, so this was supposed to be a day for fine-tuning, subtle shifts in angles and facial expressions. The finishing touches. Instead, Felix found himself barely able to keep up with marking the moves. His arms felt like logs and his body wasn’t cooperating and he just couldn’t seem to relieve the pressure in his chest. He growled in frustration, but _that_ just aggravated his throat. He held back a dry cough, dropping in frustration and burying his face in his knees.

“Felix?” Hyunjin asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he sighed in response, forcing himself to stand back up despite the ache that was permeating his body with every breath he tried to take.

“You don’t seem okay,” Minho frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I feel like I’m suffocating,” Felix said, trying to find the words to describe exactly what it was he was feeling. Which was difficult, because he couldn’t even pinpoint what the sensation _was_. “Like, I can feel that I’m breathing but it doesn’t feel like I am? I don’t know. The room just feels stuffy.”

“Do you need to take a break?” Hyunjin asked gently. “Do you need water?” Felix nodded.

“I need some air,” he said quietly. He was trying to conserve his oxygen because his chest felt like lead. Maybe getting out of the stuffy dance studio would do him some good. He shuffled out of the room and climbed the stairs to the rooftop, not wanting to wait for the elevator. He pushed open the door to the rooftop garden. It was chilly outside and the sun didn’t feel warm at all, and there was a slight breeze that blew against the sweat on the back of his neck and made him shiver. He wandered down the path and looked over the railing across the street, focusing on inhaling deep breaths. He sneezed, but only once, so he brushed it off.

A couple minutes later, he felt marginally better so he returned to practice. He took the elevator this time because the stairs seemed like more work now. Minho and Hyunjin both cast him worried glances as he walked back into the room but said nothing, only getting back into position. Halfway through their first run-through was when he started coughing. It had come on gradually, but had quickly descended into a full-on fit and at this point he was absolutely certain that his lungs would be outside his body by the time the ending riff of the song came around. He braced his hands on his knees, trying to keep from collapsing to the floor face-first.

“Felix, are you sure you’re okay?” Hyunjin asked, suddenly meeting Felix’s eyes from underneath him while he was still looking down at the floor and _how was he doing that?_ Human bodies weren’t supposed to bend that way.

“Ya, Pabo-ya,” Minho said, yanking Hyunjin back. “Don’t let him cough on you, you’ll end up with the bubonic plague too.”

Bubonic plague? He didn’t have the bubonic plague. He didn’t even feel that bad except for his lungs. Did he have pneumonia? _Was_ he sick? He didn’t feel feverish, but he did have a headache... Maybe he should try drinking some water. He straightened up and took a step, only to have his vision go out on him and throw him off balance.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Minho said urgently from beside him as he tried to get his eyes to swim back into focus. “Don’t go anywhere, you’ll pass out on us.” The eldest dancer nodded at Hyunjin, and Felix found himself being half-carried by the other two over to the couch. Even the short few meters felt like a marathon now, his lungs were dying. Had he seriously walked up several flights of stairs ten minutes ago?

“Felix,” Minho said, coming back into view and putting a cold hand on Felix’s forehead, muttering something into his phone. Felix hadn’t even noticed him leave. “Channie-Hyung.”

“Channie-Hyung-? Oh,” Felix said, accepting the phone Minho was waving in front of his face, very nearly dropping it because of his shaking fingers. 

“H’llo?” He coughed into the receiver.

 _“Geez, you sound awful, mate, are you sick?”_ He frowned. He still didn’t _know_ if he was. He might be.

 _“Oh, god,”_ Chan groaned. “ ** _Of course_.** _How come I didn’t- Lix, do you have your inhaler on you?”_ No, of course he didn’t. Why would he lug around his inhaler all the time if he didn’t expect to need it? He wasn’t, like, _asthmatic_ asthmatic, the inhaler was more for allergies. Back in Sydney, he really only took it in October-November when hay fever was prevalent.

“No,” he said bluntly. “I only carry it in springtime.”

 _“It **is** springtime,”_ Chan sighed. _“Seasons are backwards here. Did you check the air quality index today?”_ No. No he didn’t. Come to think of it, he _hadn’t_ been able to see the city skyline particularly well from the rooftop. If he squinted he could barely see the horizon for all the fine dust, pollen and smog floating in the air. Felix was allergic to pollen. And dust. _Ah_. Yeah, that would probably do it. Crap. Perhaps Chan could sense that his brain was a little slow to process, because Felix received a rushed _“Put Minho back on the phone and focus on breathing”_ from the leader.

He didn’t have the brainpower to respond and was suddenly very aware of just how little oxygen he was taking in at the moment, so he handed Minho back the phone and did his best to follow Chan’s instructions. Man, was breathing _always_ this hard?

Minho talked with Chan for a minute or two and then barked some instruction at Hyunjin, who pulled out his own phone and scurried out of the room. Minho turned back to him and said something in Korean. Felix didn’t know what it meant but it sounded like a question so he nodded his head, hoping that was the appropriate response. Minho sighed and typed something in his phone.

“Which one?” Their manager asked, holding hands full of something colourful out to him. When had their manager joined them? Whatever. He squinted at the pieces of plastic, recognizing them to be different-coloured inhalers. He frowned in confusion and stared at them. They were all written in Korean. His mom had asthma and she had two inhalers- the orange and the blue. Blue worked fast and orange worked slow. The doctor had prescribed him a blue one back in Australia, because he only needed one for emergency relief, but was the colour coding the same here? He didn’t know and he couldn’t logic his way through because thinking was too much for him to deal with right now.

Hyunjin pointed to one of the inhalers and said something that Felix couldn’t focus on because sometime in the last few minutes his breathing had picked up and he was now getting _even less oxygen_. His lungs were collapsing in on him. He was going to die here on the practice room couch before he even got to release his sophomore EP. Goodbye, cruel world!

All of the sudden he felt himself sliding off the couch, and a wiry pair of arms wrapped around him before he hit the floor and pulled him back onto the seat. Minho (was it Minho?) seemed to say something in an urgent voice, but all Felix heard was gibberish. Damn this accursed language barrier!

“Felix, Kiss,” Minho said this time, and Felix knew that word in Korean. It didn’t make any sense in this context, though, because he was, like, actually dying? This was _not_ the time for skinship.

“Felix, **_Kiss_** ,” Minho said again.Felix shrugged to himself and puckered up as he’d been told. Was Minho going to give him CPR? Wasn’t he supposed to be already unconscious for that? When he finally remembered how to use his eyes properly, he found the blue inhaler in front of his mouth. Oh. _Oh!_ Minho was trying to get him to purse his lips. _That_ made more sense.

“Felix. One, two, three, four,” Minho counted in English, miming inhalation with his hands. Slow down breathing. Felix could do that. He took a deep breath, lungs screaming in pain.

“Again. One, two, three, four,” Minho said and this time as he was breathing, a gust of foul-tasting medication entered his airway.

“Again. One, two, three, four.” Another puff. The aftertaste of the drug settled on his tongue and made him grimace as he was shifted to lie on his back on the couch. Cold fingers reached under his chin to tip his head back, opening up his chest to help him breathe easier. Another hand settled on his forehead, brushing his fringe aside. He closed his eyes at the cool contact, revelling in the fact that his respiratory system seemed to be remembering how to do its job again. He started to doze off, only to be jostled immediately. He groaned and opened his eyes again as Minho scolded him. At least that’s what he assumed that’s what Minho was doing, but he still didn’t have the brain capacity to understand the Korean words.

“No sleep,” Hyunjin translated into broken English. Oh. They wanted him to stay conscious. He supposed that made sense, but he was _so tired_. The door to the practice room flew open and hit the wall with a **_bang!_** that made both him and Hyunjin jump, and Hyunjin let out an undignified shriek and fell back on his butt as a streak of black suddenly descended upon them.

“Did you get an inhaler?” Chan demanded in English without any pretence. Felix nodded, and Chan visibly deflated somewhat.

“You’re such an idiot,” he seethed, even as he pulled Felix gently upwards into the sitting position. “Why didn’t you bring your puffer with you?”

“I didn’t know I’d need it!” Felix pouted. It wasn’t his fault the seasons were backwards here. Chan sighed and started rummaging through the plastic bag that Felix hadn’t noticed before now, producing a bottle of cartoon-orange electrolyte drink. He opened it with a schnick and handed it to Felix, who took a sip. It tasted like flat orange pop and felt sticky on his tongue but at least it got rid of the Ventolin aftertaste. It was only then that he realized just how thirsty he was. He wasn’t sure whether it was a side effect of the air quality or the medication but he was _parched_. He started gulping the drink down, only to have it tugged away from him with a “slow down, you’ll make yourself sick!” from the leader.

He _s_ cowled at him and tried to snatch the bottle back, but Chan had faster reflexes even on Felix’s best days and at the moment Felix’s limbs felt like jello.

“Ah-Ah,” Chan scolded. “Sip slowly.” Felix nodded and held his hands out for the drink. Chan handed it to Minho instead, with instructions to regulate Felix’s consumption, then turned to talk to the manager, who was still hovering over them.

“Felix, do you need a doctor?” Their manager asked. Felix shook his head.

“I’m okay now,” he said. His brain was even functional enough to respond in Korean now, he was doing _great_. Their manager nodded with relief, then asked Chan a question.

“Manager-Hyung wants you to get another prescription,” Chan translated. “To keep here. This one worked for today but it would be better to have one catered to you. He’s going to set up an appointment.” Felix nodded his understanding as he took another sip.

“Did you eat medication this morning?” Hyunjin asked. Felix shook his head. Of course he hadn’t, he wasn’t used to expecting allergic reactions at this time of year. Why would he take medication when he had no reason to be experiencing symptoms? Chan nodded and pulled out a bottle of pills from the plastic bag. Had he seriously sprinted to a convenience store and back for all this? He must be The Flash or something, it only felt like five minutes since Felix had handed Minho back his phone.

“I know this stuff isn’t your favourite but it’s all they had,” Chan said, popping a pill out of the blister packet and placing it in Felix’s hand. “You can take the Australian stuff for your next dose but I’d prefer you don’t die before we’re back at the dorms.” Felix stared at the pill in disgust before tipping it back. It was chalky and tasted as abhorrent as he remembered. Snatching the orange drink from Minho, he downed the rest of it.

“Are you okay to walk down to the car now?” Car? Now? It was only three in the afternoon! But _man_ , he was exhausted. Maybe car was a good idea. Their manager left them with instructions to meet him downstairs “whenever he’s ready to move without collapsing again,” and the others all answered and stood to bow as he left the room. Felix didn’t even attempt to stand. He hoped the man would understand. Chan was rummaging through the plastic bag once more, and a few seconds later Felix found his mouth and nose covered by a freshly-opened KF94 mask that Chan hooked over his ears.

“I didn’t want to cover your mouth so soon after an attack but I think it’s worse if you breathe the air outside,” Chan sighed. “And I don’t want you walking, either. Come here.” Chan pulled him up off the couch and hoisted him up into his arms. He carried Felix out of the room and the other two dancers followed, bringing his stuff and their own. Felix relaxed and rested his cheek against Chan’s shoulder because he was _tired_ and it was _right there_. He closed his eyes for all of half a second before Hyunjin and Minho both started yelping non-verbal protests.

“Relax, guys, he’s fine,” Chan said. “I can feel his breathing, it’s getting better now. He’s just tired.” Yeah. Just tired. That was right. He let out a yawn and nuzzled further into Chan’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around the leader’s torso and letting his eyes flutter shut once more.

When he woke up, they were at the dorms already. Someone must have carried him inside because he didn’t remember anything from the trip. He propped himself up on the couch, blinking around the living room sleepily. He took a deep breath, and was relieved to find that his sense of smell had returned, as had his appetite. Somebody was obviously preparing dinner in the kitchen and it smelled delicious. He was _starving_.

He found Chan hunched over the desk in the corner of the living room, obviously very immersed in his work. Or his gaming, you couldn’t always tell which it was. Regardless, he had his headphones in and his back to Felix, and Felix was going to take full advantage of the opportunity. He tip-toed across the room, although he needn’t have, because as he approached he could hear the music coming out of the headphones a meter away so there was no way Chan heard him, and assaulted him with a back hug, hooking his chin over the elder’s shoulder. Chan, to his credit, didn’t scream, just startled and ripped off his headphones as he turned to look at Felix.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said dumbly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” Felix shrugged, still hanging off the back of the chair. He wasn’t sick, it was just allergies. Now that the allergens were gone he felt perfectly fine. He’d just been tired. “What’re you working on?”

“This? Oh,” Chan said, glancing back at his screen, open to one of the many producing softwares he had installed on his laptop. The man was gonna need an external hard drive or three before long. “Just something I was working on earlier.” Earlier. Before Felix’s autoimmune system decided to stage a revolt against his body and force the leader and the two other dancers to pack up everything and return home early.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chan rolled his eyes as if he could read Felix’s thoughts. Honestly, Felix wouldn’t be surprised if he could at this point. “Minho and Hyunjin were glad for a break and you didn’t pull me away from anything important. If anything you helped me because Jisung and Changbin were hyper and it was incredibly distracting trying to work in-studio with them. You were at least quiet and napping so I could actually get shit done while keeping an eye on you. I’m almost done this track, have a listen.” He shoved the headphones over Felix’s ears, and Felix dove for the volume button before Chan could hit play, turning it down about ten levels. Felix had learned the hard way that Chan liked to have his tracks **_loud_** when he was fine-tuning them so he could hear any imperfections more clearly. He would personally like to avoid needing hearing aids by the age of thirty, thank you very much. The thumping bass line filled his ears, and he recognized the lyrics that he and Hyunjin had recorded a few weeks back filtering through Chan’s (self-indulgent, extremely good quality) headphones.

“That sounds awesome, Hyung!” He said as Chan stopped the track and plucked his headphones back off Felix’s head.

“Thanks,” Chan responded, saving his work three times (a quirky habit of his) before closing out the software and shutting down the computer. “I’ll finish it later.” He swivelled his chair around and tugged Felix down into his lap, wrapping his arms around him. There was a glint in his eye that Felix and the others had come to recognize as his ‘Leader Look,’ and it was one of the early warning signs that somebody was about to get chastised. Seeing as Felix was the only one in the room, it was safe to assume that somebody was him. He slouched in Chan’s hold and looked away so he would no longer feel the shame that automatically accompanied that look.

“Why don’t we talk about why you almost stopped breathing today,” The leader said. Felix rolled his eyes. He knew it was a rhetorical question; he and Chan both knew _exactly_ what the cause was, he shouldn’t have to spell it out.

“That would be the allergy-induced asthma,” Felix answered pedantically. Two could play at that game. Chan reached over and flicked his forehead.

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he chided. “Asthma is _serious_.” And it _was_ serious. Felix knew better than anyone how much it sucked to have your airway close in on itself, and how scary it could be to pass out because of said airway closure. But it had also been a complete fluke this time.

“I know that,” he retorted. “I just didn’t realize what it was!” 

“How did you not realize you were in the middle of a fucking allergy-induced asthma attack?” Chan exclaimed. “You should recognize the signs!”

“I _do_ recognize the signs,” Felix muttered, crossing his arms. “Usually.” 

“You’re such an idiot,” Chan groaned. “Okay. You’re not allowed to even set foot in the dance room without your inhaler for the next few weeks. Or, like, ever.” Felix stifled a groan.

“Well now that I _know_ this is the dusty season I won’t,” he retorted. “Geez, it’s not like I was _trying_ to have an attack.”

“Well maybe if you checked the air quality every once in a while,” Chan shot back. “Seriously, the index was so high today they were recommended that even people _without_ respiratory issues be careful and you didn’t even grab a mask! No wonder your lungs decided they hated you!” Okay, Felix had to give Chan that one. That was one of the first things they taught him about living in Seoul, to always check the air quality index for high pollution, especially if you had pre-existing conditions. Which he did.

“Fine, you win,” He grumbled. Chan scoffed, and Felix felt the arms around his waist tighten slightly.

“But you’re feeling better now? Your chest doesn’t hurt at all?” Chan asked after a minute, irritation (mostly) giving way to concern.

“I didn’t have a heart attack, Hyung, it was just allergies,” Felix rolled his eyes.

“I just don’t want you passing out on me, that’s all,” Chan hummed. Felix reached back and patted the leader’s cheek in both thanks and reassurance.

“Oh, and Hyunjin went through all your stuff to find your inhaler in case you needed it again. He probably left a mess,” Chan added.

“It was a mess anyways,” Felix shrugged.

“We’re keeping the inhalers in the kitchen cupboard from now on so anyone can find them in an emergency,” Chan said. Inhalers? Plural?

“I only have one,” Felix said, frowning.

“For now,” Chan said. “Management’s getting you a few spares, remember? And Hyunjinnie has one too, apparently. Didn’t think to mention it before today, funnily enough.” Felix couldn’t see the sarcastic smile on the elder’s face thanks to his current position, but he could sure feel it. His heart went out to Hyunjin, Chan took matters of health very seriously.

“You didn’t kill him, did you? He saved my life earlier,” Felix pleaded.

“Oh, don’t worry. Minho already reamed him out for me.”

“That’s worse,” Felix deadpanned. It wasn’t, really, the hyungs were all equally scary when they were mad, just in different ways, but Felix felt like being cheeky.

“He had it coming,” Chan retorted. “And we went easy on him. He’s almost done sulking already and it’s only been two hours.” Felix’s stifled a laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Hyunjin pouted, hanging off the frame of the kitchen door. He had evidently been eavesdropping. “Hyungs are still holding it over my head.” He flounced over and collapsed dramatically into Felix’s lap on top of Chan. The rolling office chair creaked ominously.

“Off,” Chan said, swatting Hyunjin’s thigh. “You’ll break the chair.”

“No.”

“ _Off_ ,” Chan said again. “I can’t breathe.”

“Do you need an inhaler too, Channie-Hyung?” Hyunjin giggled.

“No,” Chan said shortly. “Unlike _some_ people, **_I_** don’t neglect to mention my health concerns. I’m just being crushed under your combined weight, is all.” Felix felt a little bad for Hyunjin, but at the same time he was kind of glad that his fellow 00-liner was taking some of the heat. If he wasn’t, Felix had no doubt that he would be facing the combined wrath of the hyungs and that would have been much more tedious.

“This is discrimination,” Hyunjin pouted. “I didn’t hide it on purpose, you know. Cats just don’t come up in conversation all that often.”

“ _You live with Minho!_ They come up in conversation _every single day_!” Chan cried. “You has _every_ opportunity to bring that up. Just a little ‘oh, hey, they’re cute and all but they make me sneeze and stop breathing!’ That’s all that we needed!”

“That’s true,” Minho added, poking his head out of the kitchen. “I do mention cats almost every single day. Get up off your ass and help me cook the vegetables.” Hyunjin pulled a face.

“Watcha making?” Chan asked as Hyunjin slid off the chair.

“That eggplant side dish we had a few weeks back,” Minho said, smirking evilly. Hyunjin gagged dramatically. “And Hyunjin’s going to prep it. And eat every bite that we put on his plate.”

“I’m not,” Hyunjin said, dropping to the floor and feigning paralysis. “You can’t make me.”

“We’ll see about that.” And with that, Minho, looking completely unbothered, grabbed a flailing Hyunjin’s arm and dragged him across the floor and into the kitchen. Felix couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s demeanour, but it quickly descended into a fit of coughs. Guess his chest wasn’t as settled as he thought. Chan tightened his grip on Felix’s waist again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need another hit?”

“You make it sound like I’m an addict,” Felix grumbled.

“Do you need the life-saving drugs or not?” Chan demanded impatiently. Felix thought for a minute. Honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to bolster his respiratory system. It was still quite tired.

“Yes please,” he said, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder. Chan nodded and plucked the inhaler off the desk, handing it to him. He shook it up before self-administering a puff, then re-capped it and handed it back to the leader.

“Just the one?” Chan asked.

“It’s just a booster shot.” Chan hummed his understanding, and Felix settled back down in his lap. Chan started playing with his hands absentmindedly. At least that’s what it _seemed_ the leader was doing, until-

“Hyung, are you taking my pulse?” Felix groaned exasperatedly.

“Just in case!” Chan placated. “You did a number on your lungs today. Excuse me for not wanting you to die of your own stupidity.”

“I won’t,” Felix promised. “That’s Jisung.” Chan snorted but didn’t argue. He also didn’t take his finger off Felix’s pulse, but Felix decided it wasn’t worth fighting. Once he was deemed to be in good health by his helicopter-hyung, he sidled into the kitchen to go watch Minho enslave and torture Hyunjin.

At dinner that night, when everyone was gathered in one place for a glorious forty minutes before things got busy again, Chan had put him on the spot and made him explain the events that transpired that day to the whole group (how humiliating) and how the group was to handle similar situations going forward, which segued well into the leader’s stern lecture about the importance of not hiding chronic conditions from him, no matter how sporadic flare-ups may be because “it makes it a hell of a lot harder for me to keep you gremlins alive.” At least he had also singled Hyunjin out. Once that was over, everyone migrated to the living room to eat their ice cream for dessert (except for Hyunjin, who was stuck at the table because he was stubbornly refusing to consume the admittedly rather large portion of eggplant that Minho had put on his plate and had consequently given up dessert privileges and freedom to get up from the table). Before Felix could take a bite of his own, it was ruthlessly yanked out of his hand. He yelped in protest, looking up to glare at the perpetrator, Minho, who just smirked and dropped a pill in his open mouth.

“You were due,” the elder dancer shrugged as Felix glowered at him, trying to dry-swallow the pill. It was another one of the Korean brand and it was awful. Once Minho was satisfied that the pill had been consumed, he sat down next to Felix and proffered the ice cream. Felix grabbed at it, and Minho pulled it back out of his reach.

“Don’t you ever forget your inhaler again,” the dancer said firmly. Felix nodded, wide-eyed. This was a side of Minho that wasn’t usually directed at him. “You scared me, you little punk. You blacked out on me. _Twice_.”

“Sorry, Hyung,” Felix said, blood rushing to his cheeks at Minho’s firm tone. Minho nodded and handed him back his ice cream, tugging him into his lap. Felix turned his neck to kiss Minho’s shoulder.

“What was that for?” Minho asked in a show of fake disgust.

“You asked for a kiss earlier,” Felix grinned. “And I never paid up.” Recognition and something that resembled fondness flickered across Minho’s face, quickly replaced by an exaggerated grimace. Felix chose not to comment on the crack in Minho’s ‘Hardass Hyung’ façade, nor on the gentle kiss and nuzzle that Minho planted in his hair in return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: This chapter is VERY loosely based off my own personal experiences with allergy-Induced asthma AND the fine dust situation in Seoul. It really does make your throat feel strained and it ain't pretty. ;)


	15. Still Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Hyunjin feels like being a brat and Chan has a rare bad parenting day but it's okay because even the best parents/leaders make mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bratty Hyunjin is now one of my favourite things to write. Not a massive fan of the chapter title but I couldn't think of anything better so we're rolling with it lol

Hyunjin woke up in a weird mood. He didn’t know why, he had gotten a good night’s sleep, but he was just... he didn’t know what word he could use to describe what he was feeling like. His hyungs would probably describe it as “pesky” or “bratty,” he’s sure. All he knew was he was getting a happy little buzz whenever somebody got irritated with him today, like when he parroted everything Minho said until the elder dancer threatened to choke him with his own tongue. Or when he pounced on Changbin for the fourth time under the guise of getting him up despite the elder being half-dressed and technically therefore already up. Chan had come down on him with an unusual (and unwarranted) level of sternness that morning, scolding him sharply and swatting himwhen he messed with Jeongin and made him spill the milk he was pouring. Hyunjin figured it was just because he hadn’t woken up fully yet (the leader was a veritable dragon in the mornings sometimes), except that the eldest’s sour mood hadn’t disappeared as they prepared lunch. There were just three for lunch at the dorm, because Jeongin was at school, Changbin and Jisung were already at the company and Minho had dragged Felix with him to E-Mart to pick up groceries and laundry detergent.

“Hyunjin, _stop_ ,” Seungmin whined, batting Hyunjin’s hands away as he tried to pluck a piece of pepper off the cutting board.

“Hyunjin!” Chan scolded, turning to glare at him over his shoulder as he rummaged through the fridge. “I already told you a hundred times to leave Seungmin alone.”

“Three times, actually,” Hyunjin answered pedantically.

“And I shouldn’t have to tell you more than once,” Chan retorted. “Why are you so ornery this morning?”

“ _You’re_ ornery,” Hyunjin retorted.

“ _Hyunjin!_ ” Chan groaned. “I’m not in the mood for that today.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but left Chan (and Seungmin) alone. At least, until the three of them were sat down to lunch.

“Hyunjin-Ah, pass the salt?” Chan asked. Hyunjin reached for the shaker, adding some to his own dish before holding it out of Chan’s reach, just because he could.

“What’s the magic word?” He crowed.

“Please,” Chan rolled his eyes. Hyunjin tossed it to him, smothering a giggle as Chan yelped, just barely catching the projectile.

“For goodness sakes, Hyunjin, don’t throw it!” He scolded sharply. “It’s made of glass, it’ll break!” Hyunjin huffed. He knew it was made of glass, he wasn’t stupid. That’s why he tossed it _lightly_. Chan’s sharp tone was grating on his nerves in a way it normally wouldn’t. Traditionally when the leader got snappy like this (and that in and of itself was a rarity), it made him go all quiet and want to hide. But today it just seemed to egg him on, and he found he couldn’t _quite_ stop himself from retaliating with just as much heat.

“I’m not a _child_ , Hyung, I know my own capabilities,” he retorted.

“For fuck’s sake, Hyunjin, I told you I’m not in the mood today!” Chan said sharply. Seungmin had shrunk down in his seat and was staring between the two of them, wide eyes bouncing back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. Hyunjin couldn’t blame him. _This was all wrong._ Chan didn’t cop attitude or snap at them, that was _their_ job. He was supposed to be, like... like their _parent_ or something. This was _unnatural_.

“Language,” he said weakly.

“ _Argh!_ ” Chan growled. “Can I have ten minutes of peace this morning, Hyunjin? _Just ten minutes!_ ”

“Fine,” Hyunjin said, standing abruptly and storming out of the room, leaving his dirty plate and cutlery on the table. Chan could put them away during his “ten minutes of peace.” He stomped to his room and flopped down on his bunk, disconnecting his phone from the charger and scrolling through it. After about ten minutes, he huffed and rolled over. He was antsy and needed to move, so he may as well head into work to do something about it. He pocketed his phone and charger and made his way to the entryway, jamming his feet into a random pair of boots that he had left out in the entryway sometime in the last week.

“Where are you going?” Chan demanded, coming out of the kitchen.

“You said you wanted peace,” Hyunjin retorted. “Why do you care where I go?”

“Because I’m responsible for you and I care about you!”

“Tough,” Hyunjin pouted. “I’m mad at you so I’m not telling you.”

 _“Hwang Hyunjin!”_ Chan snapped. Uh-oh, full name. Better to not push the leader any further right now.

“To the company,” he muttered reluctantly. Chan nodded.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “I need to be there soon anyways.”

“No,” Hyunjin scowled. “I’m leaving now. Don’t come with me.” Chan rolled his eyes.

“Wait a sec, I just need to grab my laptop.” Hyunjin had no intention of waiting, so as soon as Chan had disappeared around the corner into his room, he slung his jacket from the night before over his shoulders and ducked out the door, slamming it behind him in a way he knew Chan would hate. Just because he could. Thankfully, he still had his wallet, mask and company ID in the coat pocket from the previous night. He sauntered down the hall and pushed the call elevator button, leaning against the wall to wait.

Not twenty seconds later, Chan emerged from the same door Hyunjin had just slammed, backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder. The elevator doors dinged open and Hyunjin ducked inside and rapid-fire pushed the ‘close door’ button. The elevator started to slide shut, but Chan brushed through at the last moment, doors bouncing back open as they hit his shoulders.

“Don’t be petty,” the leader scolded, pushing the button for the main lobby. Hyunjin just turned away and pulled out his phone, staring at it and pointedly ignoring him. The doors slid back open and Hyunjin rushed forward on instinct, but was stopped by a hand in his hood pulling him back in. He whirled around to glare at Chan.

“Wrong floor,” the elder said, quirking his eyebrow. Hyunjin glanced up. They were indeed still three floors away from the lobby. He huffed in what he hoped sounded like frustration, but was actually embarrassment. The elderly woman who got on and had apparently witnessed the whole thing muttered something about “disrespectful teenagers.” Hyunjin turned away.

After a quick glance at the floor number the next time the elevator opened, Hyunjin rushed out of the door and towards the bus stop. When he got there, he realized that he had a shadow. The shadow even looked the part, conveniently dressed in all black (as per usual). His irritation spiked again.

“Stop following me!” He demanded.

“I told you I was also going to the company. I have things to work on too, you know,” came Chan’s clipped reply. Hyunjin rolled his eyes. Yeah, get all high and mighty about all your responsibilities. He scoffed internally, shaking off the little angel on his shoulder who told him that he was supposed to be grateful for the amount of energy their leader invested in them on a daily basis. He was _mad at him_ right now.

“Take a different bus, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Hyunjin, don’t be ridiculous,” Chan scoffed, and Hyunjin bristled at his impatient tone. “I have a really important meeting at two thirty with PD-nim and a couple new producers, I’m _not_ going to be late for that just so you can feel vindicated in your anger or whatever. If you want to sulk, you can take a different bus.” The bus pulled up to the stop and opened its doors. Chan brushed past him to hop on, pausing on the second step to turn back to him.

“Are you coming or what?” He asked, staring him down.

“I’ll take the next one,” Hyunjin muttered.

“Oh, grow _up!_ You’re so childish!” Chan snapped. _Ouch_. That one hurt more than Hyunjin was willing to admit out loud. Chan slammed his transportation pass down on the scanner way too aggressively as he finished boarding. The doors closed and the bus drove off. Hyunjin watched through the window as Chan dropped down into what looked, in the brief moment that Hyunjin could see through the side windows into the bus, to be the last empty seat. That seat would have been his. _Chan was in his seat_. He dropped down onto the bus stop bench and glowered at the rear window of the bus’s retreating form until it rounded the corner out of sight. He chose to dwell more on that meaningless slight than Chan’s words which left the teeniest little barb in his heart.

Ten minutes later, the next bus pulled into the stop. Hyunjin climbed aboard and tapped his card, shuffling towards the back of the bus and slouching in the nearest available seat. He rammed his headphones into his ears and zoned out until his stop. If Chan thought he was childish he was going to stick it to the elder by being anything but, so that Chan would be wrong about something for once in his life. _Take that, Chan_. Buzzing into the building, he made a beeline for his company locker to retrieve the running shoes he left last night. They were more functional for dancing than the boots he was currently wearing. He wasn’t paying attention as he was going, however, and ran right into someone’s back. He snapped his head up to apologize, but it died on his tongue. _It_ ** _would_** _be Chan_.

“Sorry, Jin,” Chan said. “Didn’t see you there.” Hyunjin nodded and skirted around him, doing his best to ignore the sigh Chan let out as he did so.

“Hyunjin,” Chan tried again. “Listen. I-“ Hyunjin fiddled loudly with his lock, wrenching the locker open with significantly more force than was probably strictly necessary.

“Can you stop sulking and listen to me for like two minutes?” Chan cried frustratedly.

“No,” Hyunjin shrugged. “I’m too childish, remember?” He started fiddling with the laces on his shoe to undo the knot he had neglected to undo the last time he used them. It was absolutely not because he was trying to avoid making eye contact with the leader for fear of bursting into angry tears. Nope. Definitely not. He just really needed to get the knot out _right this minute_.

“Hyunjin, _please_ ,” Chan pleaded. “I just want to talk to you for a minute-“

“Don’t wanna,” Hyunjin muttered, closing his locker and clicking it shut.

“Okay,” Chan said dejectedly. “I’ll give you space. We’ll talk tonight, then.”

“You can’t make me,” Hyunjin said, ignoring the feeling of Chan’s eyes on his back as he walked away. No _way_ he was talking to the leader. Not tonight, not ever again. He made his way to his favourite dance studio, which was mercifully empty. Leaving the lights off at first, he stood in the middle of the room and flopped to the floor to sulk, staring up into the abyss where the ceiling would usually be and stomping his feet. Stupid Chan. Stupid locker encounter. _Stupid hurtful words and stupid childish emotions._

He’s not entirely sure how long he was lying there, but it was long enough for him to go from feeling angry to defensive to sad to guilty and back again. Sighing, he stood and moved to turn on the lights as he went. He grimaced and scrunched his eyes shut as the overheads burned his retinas out of his skull, then shook his head vigorously and made his way go the sound system and plugged in his phone. Turning the music up loud, he started to stretch.Normally, his stretching would take ten minutes, twenty minutes tops. But he was bound and determined that he was not going home anytime soon, so he was going to engage in the most thorough warmup of his life. Arms, legs, back? Stretched. Core and neck? Stretched. Fingers and toes? Stretched. Could he stretch his nose and ears? He didn’t know but he was going to try. He was going to do a whole damn _yoga workout_ before he started to dance today. When he exhausted his list of stretches to do (twice over), only then did he return to the sound system and cue up his playlist of songs he wanted to practice.

He practiced for hours. Well, not for hours straight, per se, he took sporadic extended breaks to catch his breath and browse through his phone and stuff. He couldn’t exhaust himself too quickly, especially because he didn’t have food or water with him. _Why didn’t he grab his water bottle before storming out of the house in a fit of petty rage?_ That was very poor foresight. Whatever. 

At one point there was a knock at the door, and he watched through the mirror as it opened a crack and a water bottle was set just inside before the mysterious gift-ninja disappeared and closed the door behind him. He thought he caught a glimpse of bleach blond hair peaking through the small window in the studio room door, but ignored it, shooting a glare at the retreating shadow. He was really thirsty and sweating buckets now, and he really _did_ need a drink so when the song finished out he all but chugged half of the bottle in one go before losing himself in the dance once more. He was getting tired.

Some time later, the studio door flew open again, much more aggressively this time. Hyunjin snapped his gaze up, locking eyes with the intruder and brushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. Minho knocked on the door frame before leaning against it.

“I’m here to drag your ass back home. No you can’t argue. No, you can’t stay for ‘one more run-through.’”

“I wasn’t gonna say that,” Hyunjin muttered, fanning himself with his shirt. He totally was, and Minho seemed to know it too, if the condescending look on the elder’s face was anything to go by. Minho beckoned him forward.

“Come on, even Channie-Hyung’s at home already.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin said. That was the _whole point_. Minho narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What, so your plan was to just stay here overnight?”

“There’s couches if I need them,” Hyunjin said, glancing at the wall behind Minho instead of looking at him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other scoff.

“You’re not sleeping here,” Minho said matter-of-factly. “Hurry up and pack your things, I’ve got better things to do than wait for you to drag your feet outta here.”

“You’re right, I’m not sleeping. I’m practicing,” Hyunjin said. He crossed his arms petulantly and redirecting his gaze to the floor. He didn’t want to go home yet. Home was where Chan was. Chan wanted to talk. Hyunjin didn’t _want_ to talk. He wanted to stay here and work himself into the ground like an irresponsible adult instead of bumming around the dorm like an irresponsible child. Minho pushed himself off the door jamb and crossed his arms, taking two menacing steps towards him. Hyunjin took two back on instinct, bumping into the mirror behind him and Minho lunged forward, grabbing his arm.

“Ah- Hyung!” Hyunjin yelped, trying to pull away.

“We’re leaving,” Minho said simply. After a quick detour to the sound system to collect his phone, Hyunjin found himself dragged out of the studio and down the hall by his wrist.

“Hyung let go,” He whined, trying to tug his wrist free. Minho responded by digging his nails into his wrist because he was the _Worst Hyung_ and pushing him into the elevator. Minho didn’t let go of him the entire way down, nor did he let go as they passed the nighttime security guard. Minho bowed politely to the older man, who seemed unfazed at the scene playing out before him, simply raising a knowing eyebrow. Hyunjin blushed and ducked his head as Minho scanned his company ID pass and pushed him out of the turnstile before following him through. As soon as they were both on the other side of it, Minho grabbed his wrist again and walked briskly out the door, forcing Hyunjin to stumble out behind him. Minho didn’t let up his pace, either, as they walked the all-too-familiar path to the dormitory, nor did he loosen his grip on Hyunjin’s hand.

“Let go! Let me _go_ , Hyung!” He demanded, trying to wrench his arm free, an incredibly difficult feat considering Minho was holding his dominant hand captive and walking _just_ fast enough that Hyunjin couldn’t _quite_ keep his balance.

“No,” Minho said cheerily. “Don’t think I will. Don’t trust you not to run.” Hyunjin growled in frustration, struggling more desperately to get away as Minho tugged him out onto the street they had to cross.

“I’ll scream,” he threatened, sticking his chin out. How’s _that_ for childish, Chan? “I’ll scream for help and people will think you’re kidnapping me!” Minho snorted derisively.

“Yeah, because two young men dressed in dance gear with matching company ID passes, leaving the same entertainment company building at the same time _definitely_ points to an attempted kidnapping.”

Hyunjin stopped walking in the middle of the street and took in a big breath, ready to put his voice projection practice to good use, but never got the chance to because Minho slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Do _not_ ,” the elder dancer snapped. “Do you want to see those Dispatch headlines? ‘ _JYP’s Stray Kids Member Hyunjin Caught Throwing Tantrum in the Streets Like A Child_.’” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and licked Minho’s hand. The elder grimaced, wiping the spit on Hyunjin’s own cheek.

“Gross,” he said, once he was done smearing Hyunjin’s face. “You’re such a baby. Now stop throwing a hissy fit and _walk_ , Minnie and I ordered jajangmyeon for a midnight snack and if it gets cold because you make us take too long I’ll eat you instead.”

“You wouldn’t really eat me,” Hyunjin retorted, then yelped as Minho bit his shoulder to prove him wrong.

“ _Ow_ , Hyung!” He whined.

“I will cook you at 180 degrees for twenty minutes and eat you without salt,” Minho warned, but let go of Hyunjin’s wrist regardless. “You have one chance and one chance only. If you try to run, I will find you and I will drag you back by your hair. _Do not test me._ ” And with that, Minho whirled around to continue crossing the street. Hyunjin squeaked and scurried after him.

“Good Hyunjinnie,” Minho cooed and patted his head sarcastically when they hit the next green light. Hyunjin brushed his hand off with a scowl and Minho sighed.

“Don’t get huffy with me, I’m just the delivery guy,” he scolded.

“I don’t need to be delivered,” Hyunjin sulked. “I was fine where I was.”

“Your plan was to sleep on a couch at work. In _skinny jeans_. Not your most well-thought-out plan.” The streetlight turned red, and the crosswalk sign lit up, and Minho ushered him forward onto the street. He sped up so he was a couple steps ahead of the elder and crossed his arms.

“Have you been this immature all day? Geez, no wonder Hyung snapped at you.” _Ouch_. That was, like, the fourth time today he’d been called some form of childish. He sped up a little more, wrapping his arms around himself and blinking away a few stray tears. He could feel Minho’s calculating gaze on the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, you’re too tired for that kind of teasing, aren’t you?” The elder asked. Hyunjin nodded.

“You’re really spent. Let’s just get you home, okay?”

“I don’t _want_ to go home,” Hyunjin said thickly as Minho caught up with him and took his hand again, more gently this time.“He’s going to yell at me for being childish again.”

“Hyunjin-ah, listen,” the elder said. “I don’t know what you and Channie-Hyung fought about and quite frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that he‘s been pacing the dorms all night with a cloud of self-loathing hovering above him and that he wants you home and tucked safe into bed. I highly doubt he’s going to yell at you. Okay?” Hyunjin shrugged.

“But **_I_** might yell at you if you don’t hurry up so I can get my food,” Minho added, because apparently he would break out in hives if he showed his wise and sentimental side for too long. The two walked in silence for a time, and Hyunjin found himself squeezing Minho’s hand tighter and tighter the closer they got to the dorm.

“You’re really not looking forward to this,” the elder mused. Hyunjin nodded.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Hyunjin huffed. “He hurt my feelings. Plus he’s going to scold me and go all ‘Why did you choose to act like that, Hyunjin-ah?’ in that stupid disappointed dad voice and I don’t even have an answer for him because I don’t _know_.” Minho chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Hyung’s probably already psychoanalyzed you and is anxious to play therapist. You don’t have to know because he’ll have figured it out for you.” Hyunjin sometimes forgot how perceptive Minho actually was.

“Besides, it’ll be good for him too. The best thing you can do to help him with that massive guilt complex of his is to let him help you.” Hyunjin couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at that.

“You ready to go up now?” Minho nodded at the elevator. When had they entered the apartment building? _Huh_. Hyunjin nodded reluctantly, and up they went. Hyunjin was closest to the doorknob but it was Minho who typed in the code and opened the door. Chan met them in the entryway.

“You’re home,” he said, trying valiantly to mask the relief in his voice. He wasn’t successful, and it made the knot in Hyunjin’s stomach grow bigger.

“Has my food come?” Minho asked, taking off his shoes and throwing them onto his designated shoe shelf.

“Not to my knowledge,” Chan said. He beckoned Hyunjin over, looking like he was responsible for world hunger or some shit and Hyunjin felt compelled to go willingly. He kicked off his own shoes and shuffled towards the leader, who took his hands gently.

“Have you eaten yet?” Chan asked. Hyunjin shook his head.

“Nothing since lunch?” Hyunjin blushed as he shook his head, willing himself not to start crying as Chan’s guilty-self-loathing amplified in the room.

“Go shower, you’re all sweaty. I’ll heat some leftovers for you. Hannie should be out of the bathroom by now.” Hyunjin shuffled off towards the bathroom, turning the shower all the way to hot before he climbed in. He wanted to stay under the stream of hot water forever but Minho came in after about ten minutes to drop off a change of clothes and tell him to hurry up before his food got cold again. He finished quickly and towelled off, changing into the pyjama pants and hoodie that Minho had left him.

He met Chan in the living room, and the elder tugged him gently towards the kitchen. He put up no resistance as he found himself pushed down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, freshly-reheated leftovers steaming in front of him.

“You didn’t have do this, Hyung,” Hyunjin said, gesturing to the full spread set out on the tables.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chan said gently, and they both winced as they remembered the last time the leader had said those words to him that day. Chan softened his tone even more than he already had.

“You haven’t eaten anything for almost eleven hours, you should at least enjoy your food now,” he said, handing Hyunjin a set of chopsticks before turning back to the kettle as Hyunjin started eating. He pulled out the chair next to Hyunjin with his feet and set down two mugs of hot chocolate on the table between them. Hyunjin smiled his thanks and kept stuffing his face. He didn’t realize how _hungry_ he’d gotten. He caught Chan smothering a laugh beside him and stuck his tongue out like the adult he was.

He finished eating soon enough, settingdown his chopsticks and pushing his plate back to delve into the hot chocolate.

“Hyunjinnie,” Chan ventured as he took his first sip. His hyung’s tentative, I’m-treading-on-eggshells-to-not-upset-you tone soured the taste of the chocolatey mouthful slightly. He gulped it down and set the mug down, fiddling with the handle as he looked at the leader.

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you earlier,” Chan said. “I was stressed and overwhelmed because I didn’t feel ready for my meeting and expected it to go badly, and I took it out on you.” 

“No, I probably deserved it,” Hyunjin said, blushing as he traced the cartoon character on the side of the mug. “I was kind of a brat today.”

“You were,” Chan agreed easily, and Hyunjin felt like he should be offended by that but couldn’t quite bring himself to. “But that doesn’t excuse the way I spoke to you. I should have sat down and talked things through with you instead of bickering, and I _definitely_ shouldn’t have snapped at you the way that I did. I didn’t handle that very maturely, and I’m sorry for that. I kept calling _you_ childish, but I wasn’t exactly being an adult either.”

“Don’t apologize, Hyung, I would have snapped at me too,” Hyunjin admitted. “I could tell you were nearing the end of your rope and I still kept bothering you. You were right, I _am_ too childish.”

“What- No! Hyunjin, you’re not- I mean, you _are_ , but not in a _bad_ way-“ Chan tripped over his words, then sighed frustratedly. “What I _mean_ to say is, you’re still young at heart. That’s not a bad thing, it’s a _good_ thing. You’re _allowed_ to be young, encouraged even- It’s just part of who you are and I love that about you. I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t ever want to discourage you from tapping into that- It’s so important to the group. We can’t be Stray Kids without the Kids part-“

“ _Gross_ , stop sounding so much like a leader,” Hyunjin cut him off, pulling a face. “That was _so_ corny.”

“Please let me have this one,” Chan pleaded sheepishly. “It’s been bothering me all day that I hurt you and didn’t apologize. I haven’t been able to focus on anything else, seriously.”

“Well, then I forgive you for snapping at me. And calling me immature. And taking my seat on the bus,” Hyunjin smiled, blessing Chan’s apology with a regal wave of his hand.

“What?” Chan frowned in confusion. “We weren’t even on the same bus today.”

“No, but you took the last seat on the first bus, which would have been mine if I had gotten on it,” Hyunjin said rationally. Chan let out one of his trademark half-laugh-half-sighs, and Hyunjin’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

“You’re something else,” Chan said indulgently. “Fine, I’m sorry for taking your seat on the bus.”

“I already forgave you for that, Silly,” Hyunjin said. “And I’m sorry I pushed you over the edge when you were already stressed.”

“Come here,” Chan said fondly, opening his arms. Hyunjin smiled and threw himself into Chan’s lap.

“You seemed off-kilter all morning,” Chan ventured after a moment. _Ah_. They’d reached the point in the conversation where Chan tried to retrace steps to help him “understand you better and figure out how we can improve in the future”. _Gag_. He was _such_ a leader.

“Was something bothering you, or were you just in a weird mood?” The leader asked earnestly.

“The second one,” Hyunjin said. “Just felt like it, I don’t know why.” Chan hummed.

“Could it maybe be that you haven’t been able to have quality introvert time the last few days?” The elder suggested. “You haven’t been home much to unwind, you might be in an introvert burnout, like Sungie does sometimes.”

Hyunjin blinked up at him. “I’m an extrovert, Hyung,” he said. “Remember, we took the test in the fall?”

“You’re not an extrovert,” Chan said. “The test was wrong.”

“But I’m not shy around people,” Hyunjin frowned.

“Yes, you’re not,” Chan agreed. “But you know who _is_ shy? Felix. And he’s an extrovert. Not all introverts are shy, and not all extroverts are outgoing. Being an extrovert means you get energy being around people all the time. Do _you_ feel energy being surrounded by lots of people all the time?” Hyunjin shook his head vehemently. No, he definitely didn’t.

“Exactly. You need time at home to recharge and you haven’t been getting that, so it’s no wonder you were feeling so wired. I bet you anything that an hour or two curled up on the couch alone would work wonders.” Huh. Guess that made sense.

“I should’ve picked up on that sooner, but, well... One, I’m not an introvert so I don’t have much experience in that, and two, I’m not the most perceptive when I’m stressed and overwhelmed, as you can probably tell. Sorry again about that.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. Silly Chan and his silly altruism.

“Stop apologizing,” He whined. “I deserved it, honestly. You told me to stop loads of times and I didn’t. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ the one that’s sorry,” Chan said.

“No, _I’m_ sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ -“

“Where’s _my_ apology?” Minho demanded, coming into the room, followed by Seungmin, who was carrying a heavy plastic bag. Their midnight snack had evidently just arrived. “You made me go out of my way to pick you up and drag your ass home because you were being a petty little shit.”

“You _bit me!_ ” Hyunjin exclaimed. “Where’s **_my_** apology?”

“I told you I’d eat you if you made me late for food,” Minho shrugged.

“I didn’t, though, considering your food just got here now, so your bite was unwarranted,” Hyunjin retorted, sticking out his tongue out at the elder dancer. He squeaked and used Chan’s arm as a shield as Minho lunged forward to play-strangle him. He turned to the eldest hyung for backup, only to find leader was laughing at his misfortune.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Chan said, and Hyunjin huffed, thunking his head against Chan’s collarbone. Chan ran a hand through his hair in apology, and he hummed in contentment.

“Hyunjinnie, why don’t you start getting ready for bed?” Chan suggested.

“No,” Hyunjin groaned.

“Yes,” Chan mimicked. “You’re obviously exhausted, you were dancing for entirely too much time today. Plus if you don’t get enough sleep tonight you’ll be ornery again tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” Hyunjin protested. “I will be one hundred percent sunshine and rainbows tomorrow morning.” Chan and Minho both snorted at that. Jerks.

“Come on, bed,” Chan said, swatting his thigh annoyingly. Hyunjin groaned and slithered out of the leader’s lap to escape the onslaught. Chan stood up after him and shooed him out of the kitchen.

“What happened to quality introvert time?” He called over his shoulder in a last -ditch effort to stay up.

“Go read a book or something in bed then,” Chan retorted. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but made his way to the bathroom nonetheless. Once his face and teeth were all clean, however, he made his way not to his own bed, but out to the living room where he knew he’d find Chan once again. Curling up on the couch next to the eldest, he started fiddling with the hem of Chan’s hoodie.

“I thought I told you to go to bed,” Chan said, but Hyunjin couldn’t take the scolding seriously. The smile in the leader’a voice and on his face betrayed him.

“No, you told me to get _ready_ for bed,” he said smugly. “And I did.” Chan snorted.

“Do you need me to put you there?” He asked, amused.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin replied. “I’m good here right now.” Chan hummed, and started running his hands through Hyunjin’s hair again. Hyunjin felt his eyes and limbs get heavier, until his blinks got slow enough that he couldn’t _quite_ say he was awake.

“How bout now?” Chan asked. “Shall I put you to bed now?” Hyunjin hesitated. Bed sounded good now, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to separate himself from the warm, safe, familiar presence that was Chan finally back to his normal self. But he _was_ exhausted after so many hours of practice...

“C’mon,” Chan murmured. “I’ll even come to bed with you.” Now _that_ was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Especially as he was hauled up into Chan’s arms and carried bridal-style down the hall to his room. Once they were both settled down in his bed, blankets pulled up around their shoulders, Chan kissed the top of his head and whispered, “I really am sorry for today.” With his last few dregs if consciousness, Hyunjin frowned in disapproval and muttered back, “No, ‘M s’rr.” He was sure Chan would understand. He didn’t manage to stay awake long enough to hear the leader’s response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who comments on my works! There is no better motivation than praise and affirmation. Seriously. Thank you all. <3


	16. What Were You Thinking? I Haven’t The Foggiest Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the 00-line get lost in the fog and Chan has to rescue them before they get brutally murdered by a serial killer. Okay not _actually, _but it's still super scary, okay?__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Some (vague) mentions of gore, serial killers and other horror movie tropes.

Chan was a very brave man. At least, he liked to think so. He could take a scolding from Park Jinyoung himself while looking him in the eye with his chin up and his eyebrow cocked. But if there was one thing he could not stand, it was horror movies. He _hated them_ with a burning passion, although he would never admit to being scared of them out loud, choosing to phrase his distaste as “they’re just trashy, do we have to watch these?” The kids probably weren’t fooled, but they didn’t comment on it.

Dark, windy nights such as tonight kind of gave him the creeps sometimes, they were exactly the type of night that an axe murderer would decide to go out, or a monster would wreak havoc on innocent pedestrians, and thus were the background of every horror movie ever. On nights like this, he would _much_ rather be safe indoors with the wonders of electricity to protect him from potential death by horrendous act of violence and/or his own vivid imagination.

Which is why, when he got a call from the 00-line at gone-midnight (half an hour after they were supposed to be home, but he was ignoring that for now), asking him to come rescue them in the park a couple blocks from their dorm because it “was spooky” and they were “too scared to walk home alone,” he was not exactly thrilled.

“Why are you even in the park, anyways?” He demanded, not yet getting up off the couch, hoping (in vain) that the boys would realize they were being silly and come home on their own so he could berate them for being irresponsible without having to emerge from his blanket cocoon. “It’s after midnight!”

“ _Shortcut?_ ” Jisung, the one who had made the call, said sheepishly.

“It’s not a shortcut,” Chan said exasperatedly. “And why would you need a shortcut?”

“ _It’s shorter if you take it at a run.”_ (It wasn’t.) _“And that’s not the point, Hyung! Listen, can you just come? Hyunjin’s crying and Felix looks queasy.” That_ was concerning. That sounded like more than the boys being silly. His feet were up and walking towards his room to grab a hoodie almost before he had to tell them to.

“What happened?” He demanded.

_“Nothing!”_

“Jisung,” he warned. If there was actually something wrong and they weren’t just playing, then he wasn’t in the mood for games.

 _“Fine, fine!”_ Jisung groaned. _“We may or may not have taken a teensy tiny break from practicing to maybe watch a horror movie on one of your studio monitors and now we’re kind of scared that there’s a serial killer after us.”_

“And that would by why you were running so late,” Chan deadpanned. Statistically speaking, only 37.5 percent of the Stray Kids members could stomach horror movies, and only 20 percent of the maknae line. And by 20 percent of the maknae line he meant Jisung. Fortunately, Jeongin hadn’t stayed late with the other boys that night (he had been arguing with Minho all day so the dancer had dragged him home with threats of an early bedtime), so at least Chan didn’t have to worry for _his_ safety at the moment.

 _“Yeah, exactly,”_ Jisung said. He didn’t even sound remotely apologetic.

“Dammit, Jisung,” Chan sighed. “How did you even convince them to watch one with you?”

“ _Also not the point. Can you hurry, please? It’s really eerie out here and we’re very, very stuck. Seriously, Minnie’s so tense he hasn’t moved for like, five minutes.”_

“I’m coming,” Chan groaned, rifling through his wardrobe for a hoodie. Changbin glanced up from his bunk. “But we’re not done talking about this.”

 _“Yeah, yeah,”_ Jisung said. _“Oh, and Hyung?”_

“What?” Chan sighed.

_“You may want to bring a couple flashlights.”_

“Flashlights? Why?” At that, Changbin looked up inquisitively, propping himself up on his elbows.

 _“For the fog.”_ And just like that, Jisung hung up. Chan groaned and flopped on Felix’s bed, burying his face in the pillow. Of course they would choose tonight to watch a horror movie. Of _course_ they’d attempt to walk home after watching said horror movie, and of **_course_** they’d choose to take a very dubious shortcut on one of the foggiest nights Seoul had seen in years. He glanced out the window, and found he could barely see the streetlight for the haze. He shuddered. Yeah, no. There was no way he was going on this mission alone.

“What was that about?” Changbin asked, sitting up fully.

“Can you come with me to get the kids? They’ve stranded themselves in the park,” Chan sighed.

“At this time of night? No, I don’t want to. I was almost ready for bed,” Changbin whined. That was a blatant lie. He was going to be up for another forty-five minutes regardless of whether Chan dragged him along and they both knew it. He was just lazy.

“Please?” Chan pleaded. “They could get lost in the fog. **_I_** could get lost in the fog trying to rescue them. I need backup.”

“Fine,” Changbin grumbled, standing up and grabbing a jacket. “What are they even doing in the park, anyways?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Chan said. “I’ll meet you by the front door, I just need to grab some flashlights.”

The two hurried out of the dorm. The night was spookily quiet, not even a car on the road as they walked towards the park. Probably due to low visibility. By the time they reached it, Chan’s hands were positively _shaking_. He almost choked when a gust of wind sent some dead leaves scuttling along the path in front of them. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on. His heart was beating in his ears. He kept hearing whispers behind him. He found himself walking just a little bit faster, eyes darting left and right as he went. Then the wind died down momentarily. Everything got a little bit quieter. Chan took a deep breath, starting to relax, when-

“BWAH!”

He’s pretty sure he jumped about a metre in the air. On instinct he whirled around, fist reacting of its own accord, just barely missing Changbin’s face as the younger doubled over with laughter.

“Not funny,” Chan scolded. “Don’t do that, I could have seriously hurt you there.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Changbin giggled. Chan reached over to rub his knuckles against Changbin’s skull, heart still beating out of his chest as the other rapper continued to laugh hysterically. They both sobered up pretty quickly when a new gust of wind carried with it the sound of several frantic voices. Chan and Changbin glanced at each other and took off running against the wind in the direction of the cries. After a minute, Chan managed to make out a huddle of people through the haze. He sprinted off in their general direction, flashlight beam swaying in front of him. He heard Changbin yelp in surprise behind him but paid it no mind; the other producer would catch up.

“Boys?” He called as he ran towards the shadowy figures. He sincerely hoped it was them. He couldn’t imagine who else would have so little common sense that they’d willingly enter the park on a night like tonight.

“Channie-Hyung!” Hyunjin cried, breaking free of the huddle and barrelling towards him, nearly sending both of them stumbling off the path. Chan caught the boy easily in his arms.

“Hi, Jinnie,” Chan murmured, breathing a sigh of relief now that the kids were in his sight once again. “You okay?”

Hyunjin nodded, but clung tightly to Chan’s arm as they started walking back to the others.

“I’m so glad you came,” Hyunjin said earnestly. “I thought we we’re going to _die_.” Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at the theatrics. He slipped his hand into Hyunjin’s and squeezed reassuringly before turning to the three remaining boys, scanning for any type of injury. Another swinging flashlight beam came up behind him. Changbin was panting as he finally caught up with them.

“Thanks for waiting,” he wheezed. Chan ignored him. Something much more worrying had caught his eye. Felix, once he had seen the flashlight beams, had thrown himself into the nearest set of empty arms (Changbin’s). Chan had expected Seungmin to do the same, and he had expected Jisung to saunter up after the other three with enough fake bravado that it would seem to the untrained eye that he wasn’t bothered at all (even though he was probably at least slightly bothered. There was something about fog that would set just about anyone on edge). Instead, Jisung hovered beside Seungmin, playing nervously with the vocalist’s hand. But that wasn’t what was worrying Chan the most.

No, that was the fact that Seungmin had yet to give any indication that he was aware of their presence. The youngest 00-liner was standing, unmoving, eyes wide and face frozen in what could only be described as sheer, unadulterated terror, barely acknowledging Jisung’s presence, let alone anyone else’s. Chan hurried over, Hyunjin trailing behind him.

He had never seen Seungmin like this before. Seungmin was usually one of the more emotionally intelligent members of the group. He was always aware of his emotions, but almost never let them control him. To see him drowning helplessly in them like he so clearly was in this moment was quite disconcerting. Seungmin was, quite literally, frozen in fear. Chan approached him carefully.

“Hyung,” Jisung cried out in relief. “Thank _goodness_. He forgot how to move.” The hyperactive rapper turned back to Seungmin. “You win Statues, Dude. Everyone else moved. Can we go now? This fog’s making my skin crawl.” Chan rolled his eyes fondly at Jisung’s plea.

“Okay, Sungie, I’ve got him. Can you give us some space for a minute?” He nudged Jisung back out of Seungmin’s face, shooing him and Hyunjin off towards Changbin before turning back to Seungmin.

“Hey Minnie,” he said gently. “Do you want a hug?” Seungmin nodded, but didn’t move. Chan stepped forward to close the gap and wrapped his arms around him. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “Hyung’s got you. You’re good.”

“I can’t move,” Seungmin whispered, melting slightly into Chan’s hug. Chan hugged him tighter. Seungmin took a stuttering breath, burying his face in Chan’s neck.

“It’s okay, Bud,” Chan murmured. “That movie got inside your head, huh? I know how much you hate horror movies.” He felt Seungmin nod fervently into his collarbone.

“Hyung can we go? It’s creepy,” Hyunjin pleaded from a couple paces away. Seungmin tensed underneath him, and Chan shushed him gently. If he knew Seungmin at all (and he absolutely did), he would guess that Seungmin was just as scared of his body’s involuntary physical reaction as the invisible threat of whatever monster he had seen in the movie. Seungmin wasn’t used to his body and emotions betraying him.

“Be patient, Jinnie,” he scolded. “Go stand with Changbin, he has a flashlight.” Hyunjin didn’t. Instead he sidled up a little bit closer to where Chan and Seungmin still stood and huffed impatiently. Chan ignored him, giving all his attention back to Seungmin.

“You ready to go home?” He asked him gently. Seungmin nodded and Chan pulled away, taking his hand and taking a step. Seungmin didn’t follow, still rooted to the spot.

“Geez, what movie did Jisung inflict on you?” Chan muttered. Seungmin shuddered.

“It was awful,” Hyunjin exclaimed from beside him. “There was this man-” Seungmin let out a strangled sound.

“Not the time, Jin,” Chan sighed. “Tell me about it when we’re at home.” Hyunjin nodded.

“This is stupid,” Seungmin muttered sullenly. “I’m being stupid. It’s just a movie, I shouldn’t be this scared.” Hyunjin shook his head rapidly at that.

“No no no, it’s not just you!” Hyunjin said “Even Sungie was scared!”

“No I wasn’t!” Jisung called from where he had migrated over to Changbin and Felix. The twins, at least, seemed to be doing okay now that there were responsible Hyungs here. Responsible. Hah.

“Yes you were,” Hyunjin called back, whirling around to argue. Chan tuned their bickering out, focusing on the younger vocalist again.

“Come on, Minnie,” he tried again, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “You can do this. Take a step towards me.” Seungmin looked up at him, wide eyed and shook his head rapidly, letting out a choked sound.

“Minnie-Min. Meong-Meongie. My puppy, my child. You can do it,” Chan tried again, pulling out one of the most ridiculous nicknames he had for the younger in the hopes that maybe Seungmin could cringe his way out of the terror-induced paralysis he had managed to inflict on himself. No luck. Chan needed to get him out of here, and the only way to do that was to make him forget the situation he was in.

“Okay, let’s try this. Can you close your eyes for me?” He asked.

“No!” Seungmin yelped. “Are you _crazy?_ ”

“Trust me,” Chan said. “Nothing’s going to be able to sneak up on you, I’d see them.” That was only half-true. The fog was so thick he couldn’t see more than a few metres behind the younger so they wouldn’t have much of a head start if there were someone, but this was a safe neighbourhood. The only monster they’d have to run from was their own collective imagination. Seungmin took a deep breath and obeyed.

“Good work,” Chan murmured, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “Don’t open them again until I tell you, okay? I’m gonna take your hands and put them on my shoulders. Picture your bedroom at home as we walk. Can you do that?” Seungmin nodded hesitantly, taking a deep breath.

“Good. Just follow me.” He took Seungmin’s ( _very tense, holy moly_ ) hands and raised them to his shoulders, trying not to wince as Seungmin gripped them tightly, nails digging into his flesh through the hoodie. Seungmin was absolutely _petrified_. “We’re going to start walking, Min,” Chan warned. “I’ll make sure you don’t trip.” Seungmin squeezed his shoulder, he assumed in acknowledgement.

“Wait!” Hyunjin exclaimed from beside him. “Me too!” Chan felt rather than saw Seungmin jump as Hyunjin grabbed onto his shoulders in what appeared to be the beginnings of a truly bizarre conga line. Felix and Jisung, not ones to be left behind when there were truly outlandish shenanigans going down, were quick to join on the end (Jisung took the very end because he was the least scared), and Chan paused for a moment to reevaluate his life, before turning to Changbin who was attempting to take pictures. The flash of his camera caused Hyunjin to shriek something about lightning, startling Seungmin (who had _just_ started to relax his death grip on Chan’s collarbone).

“Changbin!” He groaned as he reached up to pry Seungmin’s fingers off his neck. “At least _try_ to be a help instead of a hinderance?”

“Sorry Hyung,” Changbin smirked, but to his credit he did try to regain his composure. Chan sighed.

“All aboard the Hyung Express,” he called over his shoulder. “Now departing for home.” It was cringeworthy, to be sure, but the smattering of giggles it earned him made throwing away his dignity worth it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flashlight, turning it on and starting to walk in the same direction he had come from. Changbin trailed a little behind them, making sure Jisung and Felix stayed on course and joking around with them to keep them distracted.

Chan had to resist the urge to break into a run several times because with the fog and the clouds blowing over the moon and the trees casting ominous shadows along the park path, he _really_ felt like someone was going to jump out and murder them all. Once they were out of the park and back on the major road, Chan paused outside a particularly well-lit convenience store and tapped Seungmin’s hand.

“We’re out of the park,” he told the younger gently. “You think you’re good to walk with your eyes open now?” Seungmin nodded and broke out of the line, and the others followed suit. Chan offered his hand to the boy, who took it gratefully. Felix quickly dove forward to steal his other one, and they started walking towards home.

“I didn’t wanna watch it,” Seungmin admitted to him quietly as they went. “Even after they started.” Chan hummed in sympathy.

“Sung can be persuasive,” he agreed. “Next time just call me, okay? I’ll come rescue you from him and save you the emotional turmoil.” Seungmin smiled shyly. Chan decided to change the topic of conversation away from the godawful movie until they got home.

“So out of curiosity,” he said. “Did you guys actually practice at all tonight, or was your plan to turn my studio into your personal movie theatre all along?”

“Of course we did!” Felix squawked, offended. The other kids all took the bait voiced their agreement, launching into a detailed play-by-play description of their practice that lasted the rest of the way home, growing more and more chatty and relaxed the closer they got. Chan was only half-listening to what they were saying, still trying to grapple with the adrenaline coursing through his _own_ veins.

Only when they were all safely back in the dorm, door locked securely behind them (he had checked it in sight of all of them. Twice.), and after he sent Changbin off to start the kettle did Chan allow himself to take a shaky breath, before rounding on the four miscreants to do the yelling he had held off on in the park.

“This should go without saying,” He started, leaning against the door and smiling sarcastically at the four 00s huddled together in the entryway. “But that was one of the stupidest stunts the four of you have ever pulled. Do you have any idea how stupid that was? You don’t, do you?”

“Hyung, _relax_ ,” Jisung said, as if he hadn’t sent his three age-mates into a panicked frenzy in the middle of a foggy forest at night a mere twenty minutes ago. Seungmin and Felix both visibly cringed beside him and took a step back. At least _they_ had some self-preservation and good sense, if only a little.

“Did you just tell me to relax?” Chan asked dangerously, zeroing in on the smallest boy and pushing himself off the door. Was it bad that he was using this scolding as an outlet for the pent up stress and anxiety he had felt walking through the actual literal equivalent of Slenderman’s forest to rescue them? _Ehh, probably_. But in this moment he found he didn’t care. Jisung’s eyes went wide, realizing just a second too late that he had managed to poke an angry bear.

“No?” He squeaked, holding his hands out in a desperate attempt to placate him as he took a menacing step forward.

“I certainly hope you didn’t just tell me to relax, Han Jisung, because you’re already in more trouble than the rest of them!” Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but Chan didn’t want to hear it.

“Did you or did you not coerce your friends into watching a horror movie with you?” He demanded.

“I mean, I did, but-“

“And did you, or did you not, as a direct result of coercing your friends into watching a horror movie, cause all four of you to miss curfew?” Chan pressed.

“Okay that’s not on me,” Han interjected. “Felix was the one who suggested a movie first, I just chose which one we watched.” Felix groaned, no doubt he had been hoping his hand in the scheme would go unnoticed. Chan glanced at him and cocked his eyebrow.

“I suggested it with enough time to watch and get home before curfew,” Felix said defensively. “We would have been home in plenty of time but _someone_ wouldn’t agree on a movie to watch.”

“Your picks were all lame!” Hyunjin whined. Not the point of this discussion, and not worth the argument that comment was about to start. Chan cut Felix’s retort off before he even started.

“So when Jisung finally overruled you all and convinced you that you wanted to watch a horror movie against your better judgement, you looked at the time on the monitor and realized you’d be cutting it close to curfew, and decided to continue with your plan instead of returning home to watch a movie here?” He turned to Seungmin. “You realize that would have given you an easy out, right? You wouldn’t have had to watch the movie if you’d come home first?” Seungmin blushed and looked away.

“I panicked, okay?” He muttered sullenly.

“I know,” Chan sighed. He returned to the matter at hand. “Okay, so you deliberately flouted curfew, then what?”

“We didn’t deliberately flout curfew,” Hyunjin protested. “We could have made it in time if we hadn’t-“

“If you hadn’t run headlong into a dark, foggy forest at night?” Chan finished the sentence for him. “You wouldn’t have, the park’s not a shortcut.”

“Told you,” Seungmin muttered.

“Well you could have kept walking the normal way without us,” Jisung retorted. Seungmin widened his eyes slightly and shook his head rapidly, blush creeping onto his cheeks. There was no doubt in Chan’s mind that Seungmin would have done exactly that if he hadn’t already been spooked by whatever gore fest Jisung had inflicted on them. The fear of walking home alone after that was no doubt what spurred him to go along with the others’ harebrained scheme.

“So why didn’t you just call a taxi if you knew you were running late?” Chan sighed. To him that would be the logical next step, but sometimes his boys were incapable of logic.

“There was a taxi driver in the movie,” Seungmin said smally. “And he killed his passengers and kept their body parts in the trunk.” Chan suppressed a disgusted grimace. Okay, he wouldn’t have wanted to take a cab after that either.

“That’s fair,” he conceded. “But then why didn’t you just call ahead and say you were going to be late?”

“And rat ourselves out? No! The idea was to _not_ be late!” Jisung retorted.

“You were going to be late anyways,” Chan pointed out.

“So you keep saying,” Jisung muttered. Chan narrowed his eyes.

“Watch it,” he warned. Jisung wrapped his arms around himself and huffed. Chan raised his eyebrow.

“Okay. You three,” he said, gesturing to the three victims. “Go get cleaned up and ready for bed, then come find me. You,” he turned to Jisung. “Come with me, we’re going to talk.” Jisung whined, but Chan took his hand and dragged him off the kitchen, plunking him down at the table. Jisung glowered up at him sullenly.

“So what exactly did you inflict on the other three that was so horrific that it paralyzed Seungmin?” Chan sighed, leaning against the wall and sizing the younger up.

“It made Felix throw up, too,” Changbin added from where he was standing on a chair to reach the extra mugs on the top shelf. Chan raised his eyebrows at that. He’d need to keep an eye on Felix tonight, too, then. “Oh, did it now?” he asked, rounding on Jisung and giving him an accusing glance. Jisung withered slightly in his seat.

“I can’t remember the name, it was in English,” he said. “But it was about this psychopath cannibal who drove a taxi and murdered people in the backseat to harvest their organs and collected their body parts as a hobby.” Chan felt sick just hearing about it.

Changbin widened his eyes. “Is that the one that you tried to get me to watch with you the other week?” He asked. Jisung declined to answer, looking away.

“ _Fucking hell, Jisung,_ ” Changbin said. “Even **_I_** didn’t want to watch that one, the _trailer_ was depraved!” Chan’s eyes widened at that. Changbin generally wasn’t fazed by horror movies; he even found most of them _funny_. And his poor babies had actually _watched it all the way through?_ No wonder they were so traumatized.

“I wanted to see it!” Jisung said petulantly. “But I didn’t want to watch it alone, and I didn’t think it would be as bad as it was! And they agreed, I didn’t _force_ them. They could have said no.” 

“Oh, yeah? And how many times _did_ they say no before you finally wore them down and got them to agree?” Chan demanded, fixing the youngest producer with a pointed look. No way the other three would agree without putting up a fight. Jisung scowled.

“How many times, Jisung?” Chan pressed.

“I don’t know the _exact_ number,” Jisung muttered.

“Uh-huh. Too many then,” Chan said. Jisung huffed.

“That’s not fair,” he protested.

“No, what’s not _fair_ is you pressuring your friends into doing something you _knew_ they weren’t comfortable with just so you could get your way,” Chan said sharply. Jisung pouted.

“They could have left,” he said sullenly. “It’s not like I locked them in the room and forced them to watch.”

“No, you just peer pressured them into it, because that’s so much better ” Chan said sarcastically. Jisung winced.

“You _cannot_ take advantage of your friends like that,” Chan chided him. “That’s not even in the _realm_ of acceptable. They were _terrified!_ Hyunjin can’t handle jump scares or sudden loud noises, so why on Earth did you think showing him a horror movie was a good idea? Seungmin was so scared he almost passed out! Poor Felix _threw up!_ And for what, just so you could have your own fun? Is that how you treat your friends?” Jisung didn’t answer, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. Chan sighed.

“Changbin, can you-?” He nodded towards the door. Changbin nodded, taking the tray of mugs of tea out of the kitchen with him. Chan closed the door behind him, then turned to Jisung.

“That was mean,” he scolded. “Manipulating your friends into doing something they don’t want to do is _mean_ , Jisung.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jisung sulked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Chan sighed. “The fact is you still did.” He walked up to the 3Racha maknae and tilted his chin up.

“I know you probably just got carried away,” he said. “But what you did tonight was selfish, and it hurt your friends. I think you should sit here for a little bit and reflect on that. Head down, I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.” Jisung grumbled, but didn’t disobey, pulling his hood up before pillowing his face in his arms on the table. Chan paused for a moment in the threshold of the kitchen, then slipped out, sliding the door closed behind him. He went to go check on the others, who were starting to trickle in from getting ready for bed. They were curled up on the couch, nursing mugs of tea. Felix was in Changbin’s lap. Chan slid onto the couch next to them, and immediately found himself with a lap full of Hyunjin, and an unusually clingy Seungmin curled up against his side. He kissed both their foreheads. Changbin held out his phone, open to his web browser.

“This is the movie,” he said. “I read the synopsis, it’s pretty messed up.” Chan scanned the page, nearly having a heart attack as he read through it. He was honestly shocked they made it the whole way through. He exed out of the page and handed Changbin back his phone.

“Wow,” he said. “That is... Wow. You guys actually _watched that?_ ”

“It was _awful_ ,” Hyunjin whimpered. Seungmin nodded in agreement. “ ** _So_** bad. I’m gonna have nightmares for _weeks_.” Chan pulled the boys in tighter.

“Come find me if you do,” he said.

“I think it would have been less scarring if it had been a different type of horror,” Seungmin mused, nuzzling Chan’s shoulder. He was doing the thing he did where he started analyzing his emotions to make sense of them. This was an encouraging sign, it meant he was mostly okay and the panic was subsiding.

“Hmm? How so?” Chan hummed.

“Like, if it had been a monster or something not real, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But the bad guy was a person, so I couldn’t just rationalize and tell myself that the monster doesn’t exist.” Chan nodded.

“That makes sense,” He said. “And there are evil people out there, for sure. But I guarantee you will never encounter someone like that in your life. You’d be more likely to die in a freak accident. You know that, right?”

“If I die at the hands of a serial killer I’m coming back to haunt you,” Seungmin warned, even as he cuddled closer into Chan’s side. Hyunjin giggled in his lap. “Just to say I told you so.” Chan chuckled. The boys were all getting visibly more relaxed the longer they were home. This was good. They weren’t _completely_ traumatized, then. He turned to the other two.

“How are you feeling, Lixie?” He asked gently. “Binnie said you threw up?” Felix gave him a weak half-smile.

“‘M okay now,” he said. “It was just really gross. They showed the killer cutting open a woman and taking her intestines out, it was _nasty_.”

“I bet,” Chan commiserated. “I couldn’t have watched it.”

“I didn’t really,” Felix laughed sheepishly. “Twenty minutes in I couldn’t take it anymore and just played on my phone the rest of the time.” Seungmin nodded again.

“Me too,” He said quietly.

“Me three,” Hyunjin added. “Sungie was the only one watching, we were just there for moral support. But it _sounded_ gross.”

Well, that was a relief. At least they hadn’t felt pressured to keep their eyes on the screen the whole time.

“I’m going to talk to Sungie so this doesn’t happen again,” he said. “But if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, where someone’s pressuring you into doing something, you have the choice to say no and leave. You have to stand up for yourselves, okay? I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re pressured to stay in a distressing situation.” The three boys nodded.

“Good. I’m going to talk to Sung and I’ll be back. Why don’t you put something on while you wait?” He suggested, gently nudging Hyunjin off his lap and gesturing to the TV. “Something short and light-hearted.” The boys all dove for the remote, and he shook his head fondly as he got up to return to the kitchen.

Jisung gave a startled yelp as he walked in, jumping up slightly before he hurriedly slammed his head back down into his arms. Chan frowned to himself. Maybe Jisung had honestly just been startled when he walked in, or maybe was more affected by tonight’s events than he was willing to admit. Chan would keep an eye on it.

“Just me, Kiddo,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “You can bring your head up now.” Jisung did so. He had the imprint of his sweater sleeve on his cheek from where it had been pressed into his arm and his face was flushed, and Chan had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from chuckling fondly at his appearance. Jisung probably wouldn’t take too kindly to that. Chan took the seat next to him at the table.

“So,” he started. “Why don’t you start my telling me what you did wrong?” Jisung pulled a face.

“We already talked about that,” he grouched.

“No, **_I_** talked about that. I want to hear it from you. Let’s see if you were actually listening,” Chan said.

“I was!” Jisung insisted.

“Let’s hear it, then,” Chan said. Jisung started picking nervously at his nails. They sat in silence for a minute as Chan waited patiently for Jisung to start talking.

“I’m sorry,” the younger said after a minute. “I didn’t mean to manipulate them, I just reeeeaally wanted to watch that movie, and I got so excited I didn’t realize that they didn’t want to.” Chan nodded. He’d figured as much.

“I know you like those kinds of movies, Sung, and I understand you were excited,” he said. “But you need to remember that not everyone likes the same things you do. You need to remember not to be selfish next time, okay? The others were really freaked out tonight.” Jisung nodded.

“I know,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve never seen Minnie like that. If I’d have known he’d react like that, I’d’ve never convinced him to watch it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that anyways,” Chan reminded him.

“I know,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Chan said. “Make sure it doesn’t.” Jisung nodded, pouting up at him. Chan poked his bottom lip.

“I’d like you to write each of them a letter of apology,” he said. Jisung groaned.

“Can’t I just do it verbally?” He asked.

“Oh, you can do that, too,” Chan said, quirking his eyebrow. “But you’re also writing them by hand.”

“By hand?” Jisung whined. “Not even typing?”

“By hand,” Chan confirmed. “And I want to check them before you give them out. You have until the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Hyung!” Jisung flopped down onto the table dramatically. Chan snorted at the display.

“End of day tomorrow, Sung,” he said again. “Oh, and you’ve lost your next three turns to pick the movie on movie night.”

“Hyung, no! Why three?” Jisung whined.

“Because you’re going to give your next turn to Seungmin, and the one after that to Felix, and the one after that to Hyunjin,” Chan said.

“Not fair,” Jisung scowled.

“Why not?” Chan raised his eyebrow. “You didn’t let them choose the movie tonight, so they get to choose instead of you next time. I think that’s completely fair.” Jisung whined and grumbled at him for a minute, but when he realized he wasn’t going to budge, he sighed.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll give them my next three movie nights.” Chan reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Good. Why don’t you go shower? I’ll bring you some clothes, then you can come join us in the living room, okay?” Jisung nodded and stood up, and Chan ushered him out of the room and into the bathroom.

“Be quick,” he said. “It’s late.” Jisung vocalized his assent, turning on the shower, and Chan closed the door behind him. He fetched a pair of pyjama pants and a hoodie from the mountain of clothes in Jisung and Jeongin’s room (actually, mountain wasn’t a sufficient descriptor for the mess. It wasn’t just a singular mountain, it was a whole _range_. The pair had the laundry equivalent of the Alps on their floor), hanging them on a free hook in the bathroom before making his way to the living room. The boys had put a rerun of an old drama that they all liked. He sat down and watched the remaining fifteen minutes with them. It took all of ten seconds for Hyunjin to migrate back into his lap.

Pretty soon, Jisung emerged from the bathroom, hair still dripping wet as he shuffled into the living room, eyes planted firmly on the floor. Felix huffed, taking his own half-damp towel from around his next and clambering over to his twin, throwing the towel in his face. Jisung squeaked in surprise as Felix started ruffling his hair aggressively, almost falling over at Felix’s enthusiastic ministrations. Jeongin and Minho emerged from Minho’s bedroom soon after. Jeongin looked over the scene judgementally and Minho shot Chan a questioning look.

“Don’t ask,” Chan mouthed in reply. Minho snorted and guided the maknae into the kitchen, likely to fulfill a quest for a midnight snack. Nevermind that midnight had come and gone almost two hours ago, and that the entire purpose of Jeongin being dragged home earlier than everyone else was to have him in bed early.

“Okay, Lix, that’s enough,” Chan called. In the thirty seconds it had taken him to have a non-verbal conversation with the second-eldest, the hair drying efforts had devolved into chaos, and the two boys were getting much too rambunctious for two in the morning. “Sit down, you two.” Felix and Jisung both dove for Changbin’s lap, and the main rapper let out an _oof!_ at the impact. Chan sighed before continuing to address the boys.

“Let’s talk about your actions tonight and then you’re all going to bed,” he said. The four boys groaned as Minho and Jeongin re-emerged from the kitchen, cheeks stuffed full of whatever snack they had found. Jeongin tuned into the conversation with avid curiosity.

“What did they do?” He asked after he swallowed his mouthful, eyes lighting up gleefully at the prospect of the others getting scolded.

“None of your business,” Chan said, raising an eyebrow. The maknae rolled his eyes. Minho did Chan a favour and flicked Jeongin in the temple, eliciting a yelp but effectively putting an end to further nosy questioning.

“Bedtime Innie,” the main dancer chirped. Jeongin opened his mouth to protest, only to squawk as Minho stuck a finger in and stroked his tongue. A strange technique, to be sure, but effective. Minho wiped his hand on Jeongin’s sweater and shoved him off down the hall. Chan would thank him later. He turned back to the other four.

“This is the second time this year that you four have pulled a stupid stunt in the park after midnight. Is this something you plan to make a habit of?” He asked. “Do I have to make it an official rule that you’re not allowed to be in the park after dark?” The 00-liners all huffed in indignation.

“This was _different_ ,” Seungmin insisted. He had evidently made quite the recovery if he was talking back to Chan with that much sass. “The first time was premeditated. We were just trying to get home this time.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Chan said flatly. “And quite frankly I’m alarmed at the glaring lack of self-preservation you four displayed tonight. Nevermind that you flouted curfew, you tried to walk through a poorly lit, foggy park. Alone. _In the middle of the night_.” Only Jisung had the grace to look _truly_ regretful (although that may have something to do with residual guilt from their conversation earlier), but Seungmin at least looked sheepish.

“Nevermind imaginary serial killers, you all could have gotten seriously hurt. Or lost. Then what would you have done, huh? That’s an entirely different _brand_ of horror.” The four boys shuddered. They had evidently had enough horror for one night. Chan sighed.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m making it an official rule, no park after 11 pm without supervision. Don’t let me catch you.” The boys grumbled at that, and Chan caught a “We’re not _children_ , Hyung” to his left. He reached over and pinched Seungmin’s arm in warning, and quelled the rest of their complaints with a stern look.

“And you’re all half-grounded for the next two weeks.” They all looked at him, confused.

“Half-grounded?” Hyunjin frowned.

“No going out without a Hyung or a manager for the next two weeks, but you can keep your electronics.” The boys all started to protest at that. Chan cleared his throat loudly, and they all fell silent.

“I could make it a full grounding if you’re going to complain,” he warned. They all shook their heads rapidly. _Mm-hm. Thought so._

“You’ve all shown me that I can’t trust you to look after your own safety when you’re left unsupervised. Take the next two weeks as a reminder to make smart choices when you’re out.” The boys pouted, but didn’t argue the point further. Chan nodded, then schooled them with another warning look.

“And just so we’re clear,” he said. “You never, _ever_ take dangerous shortcuts to try and worm your way out of getting rightfully scolded for missing curfew or any other deadline. Be responsible with your time, and if you’re not, own up to it, call me to tell me and deal with the consequences that come with it. I never want to have to talk to you about this again. Got it?” The boys nodded, looking down.

“ _Yes, Hyung_ ,” Chan said pointedly.

“Yes, Hyung,” the four parroted grudgingly. Chan nodded.

“Good. Sungie, is there something you wanted to say to everyone before bed?” Jisung nodded, sliding off his perch on Changbin’s knee.

“I’m sorry I peer pressured you into watching that movie,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have made you watch it if you were uncomfortable. And I’m sorry for suggesting the short cut through the park. Next time I suggest something stupid just tackle me to the ground and put a sock in my mouth or something.” Chan snorted. That apology was so very _Jisung_. But it was heartfelt, and the boys accepted it, so he let it slide.

“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands. “Bedtime. Who’s sleeping where?” He knew there was no way he was getting a bed to himself tonight, but given everything that transpired, he was more than happy to have the kids within reach. Seungmin sidled up close to him.

“Can I-?” He asked timidly. Chan smiled indulgently at him.

“Of course, Baby,” he murmured. Seungmin smiled and melted into his side.

“Binnie-Hyung?” Felix tilted his head back to stare at his hero of the night with wide, pleading eyes. Changbin feigned an exasperated sigh as he stroked the boy’s bangs. “Sure, Lix,” he said. Felix beamed at him.

“What about me?” Hyunjin demanded, just as Minho shuffled back into the room. “Minho-hyung can I sleep with you?” Minho blinked up at him.

“Why?” He asked suspiciously.

“You have to protect me from serial killer taxi drivers,” Hyunjin said. Minho stared blankly at him for a moment, then shrugged. Chan imagined it probably wasn’t the weirdest request he’d ever heard.

“Sure,” he said. “But I want the full story before you go to sleep.” Hyunjin nodded, jostling Chan and elbowing him in the chest as he scrambled up from his lap and darted across the room to glomp onto the other dancer. Minho ushered the boy off to their shared room. Chan shot an amused glance at their retreating forms, then turned back to the other matter at hand.

“Sungie?” He prompted gently. Jisung brushed off his question with slightly too much bravado.

“I’m fine on my own,” he said confidently. Chan wasn’t so sure about that, but he decided to let it be.

“If you’re sure,” he said skeptically. “You know where to find me if you need me, though.” Jisung waved him off, wandering down the hall towards his room. Chan shrugged and started herding the remaining boys into his, Felix and Changbin’s bedroom.

“Is it a fairy lights kind of night?” He asked, already reaching for the plug. There was no way Felix would want to sleep in the dark tonight.

“Yes please,” Felix said eagerly, diving into Changbin’s bunk and immediately making himself comfortable. Chan shooed Seungmin up the ladder into his bunk. He and Changbin changed quickly into pyjamas themselves and climbed into bed with their respective maknaes. Seungmin immediately cuddled into his side.

“Hyung?” He whispered.

“Yeah, Minnie?” Chan asked.

“Thanks for rescuing me tonight.” Chan smiled.

“You’re welcome, Minnie. Call me anytime you need me, okay?” Seungmin nodded, smiling sleepily. They both soon dozed off.

Chan awoke only a couple hours later to Jisung poking his cheek. In the subtle glow of the fairy lights, Chan could just make out the faint tear tracks making their way down the younger’s face.

“Oh, _Sungie_ ,” he cooed quietly, slithering out of his bunk as quietly as he could, trying not to jostle Seungmin as he went. He tugged Jisung down onto Felix’s bed. “You okay?”

“Bad dream,” Jisung whimpered, curling into his side. “There was fog, and taxis, and- and someone tried to _kill_ them, and it was _my fault_ -“ Chan shushed him gently, cradling the boy in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “They’re all still here. You’re here. I’m here. We’re all alive, we’re all home safe.” Jisung let out a breathy, shuddering sob.

“Oh, honey,” Chan sighed. “I think that movie affected you more than you thought it would. Was it a little too much for you?” Jisung nodded, burying his face in Chan’s chest.

“I thought I could handle it,” he admitted tearfully. “Changbin-Hyung told me not to, but I thought I could.” Chan wasn’t surprised. The two younger 3Racha members tended to goad each other into making stupid bets and dares on an alarmingly regular basis. If Changbin told Jisung he couldn’t do something, Jisung would only take that as a challenge, and vice versa. He hummed.

“It was _really scary_ , Hyung,” Jisung whispered. Chan would ask him why he didn’t turn it off if he was so scared, but he already knew the answer. Jisung had something to prove. He had no doubt that once the younger had recovered from the trauma he’d be rubbing it in Changbin’s face for _weeks_. So instead of wasting his breath, he tucked the younger a little bit closer.

“It sounded scary,” he agreed. “That wasn’t your typical horror movie, was it?” Jisung shook his head.

“I thought someone was going to come kill us on the walk home for sure.” Chan smiled fondly.

“The fog probably didn’t help, either. I was so scared when we were looking for you guys,” he said. Jisung sat up slightly to look at him.

“You didn’t _seem_ scared,” he said, awestruck. Chan shushed him gently, glancing up as Seungmin stirred on the top bunk.

“I was,” Chan said. “The fog was so thick and creepy. I was scared I’d lose you. And that was _without_ the added tension from a horror movie.” Jisung hummed, and Chan kissed his head.

“I’m glad you called me, Sungie. You did a good job keeping calm and taking control of the situation while the others were panicking,” he said. Jisung smiled sleepily up at him, and he grinned fondly in return. “Maybe next time you can think your actions through and avoid the crisis altogether though, hmm? You’re gonna give me grey hairs.” Jisung giggled, and Chan brushed his bangs out of his face, using he sleeve to wipe the tears off the younger’s cheeks.

“You ready to go to sleep again?” He asked quietly. Jisung nodded.

“Can I stay here?” He asked.

“Course you can,” Chan grinned. He set Jisung down at the head of Felix’s bed and turned down the covers. “In you get.” Jisung climbed into the bed, and Chan perched himself at the head, combing his fingers through the boy’s hair as he hummed in contentment. He glanced up as the bunk bed shifted slightly. Seungmin propped himself up, his hair adorably ruffled from sleep, and looked around in a blind panic.

“Down here, Minnie,” Chan called softly. Seungmin blinked, then wordlessly climbed down from the top bunk, sliding in next to Jisung and nudging the other boy closer to the wall. Well, that made Chan’s predicament easier. He slipped into Felix’s bed as well, reaching an arm out to rest over top of both the boys’ shoulders, feeling the steady rise and fall of their breathing, which gradually slowed to a lull as they drifted off back to sleep. Chan closed his eyes and followed suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so my phone (with ALL the story notes) suddenly and with absolutely no warning decided to go to sleep and never wake up again. Fortunately for me, a bunch of NEW chapter ideas popped up out of the blue, including this one. I guess this is my Happy Belated Halloween to you? ;)


	17. Neat Freakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the resident neat freak and the resident super slob butt heads over the state in which they believe their room ought to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Two updates in the span of a week? Unheard of! ;) 
> 
> WARNINGS: Incredibly brief, blink-and-you-miss-it mentions of spanking
> 
> This one's set *just* before their debut but after the survival show, and after they had swapped rooms the first time. Think "Happiness Train" time on your SKZ timeline for reference.

Today was the first Sunday that the boys had had off since the survival show had aired, and Chan, for once, was not planning to use his coveted time off to get ahead on new projects and was actually planning to take a break. He had also not planned on breaking up a fight between members so early in the morning, but as he listened to the heated voices in the next room getting progressively louder, it seemed that his plans were going to change. He sighed and exited the kitchen of their new (and much larger) dorm to see what all the ruckus was about. They were still a new team, and despite some of their songs gaining popularity, they hadn’t even technically debuted, and were still getting used to living with each other and working together. Fortunately, they were mostly past all the real drama, but every once in a while a little flare up would occur between two members who just happened to rub each other the wrong way. Like the two in the living room seemed to be doing right now.

“You little _bitch!_ ”

“Well maybe if you cleaned your _shit up_ every once in a while-“

“Put it back!”

“You can’t make me!”

He sighed and pushed himself off the counter to go and see what was happening. He rounded the corner quickly, only to come across a very livid Jisung and Seungmin facing off in what appeared to be a heap of every personal item Jisung owned.

“Whoa whoa whoa! What’s going on here?” He demanded, rushing over and tripping his way through the absolute _carnage_ that littered the living room towards the two angry boys in the middle of it.

“I’m cleaning,” Seungmin smirked, arms crossed smugly at Jisung.

“No you’re not! You just threw all of my stuff out of our room!” Jisung exclaimed, gesticulating wildly.

“The room’s clean now, isn’t it?” Seungmin said haughtily. Chan glanced through the open door. The floor most certainly was clean now, cleaner than he’d seen it in weeks, but he wouldn’t go so far as to call Seungmin’s efforts _cleaning_. It was more of a... displacement. Into the middle of their of their living room, no less.

“And I’d do it again. Actually, no, I’ll throw it out the window next time,” Seungmin continued, smirking in self-satisfaction. Jisung growled and dove towards his age-mate, likely to shove him into the wall. Chan lunged forward and snagged him by the waist, pulling him back before he could inflict real damage.

“Easy,” Chan warned. “Talk with your mouths, not your fists.”

“Hyung, he dumped all my stuff!” Jisung yelped.

“I see that,” Chan said, casting Seungmin a disapproving look. “And as soon as I can trust you two to get within two feet of each other and not resort to unnecessary acts of violence, he’s going to help you put it back.”

“Wha- No I’m not!” Seungmin yelped.

“Oh, you absolutely are,” Chan said firmly. “The mess in the room was Jisung’s fault, but this disaster zone here is entirely yours, so you get to move it back. Get going.”

“You _would_ take his side,” Seungmin spat, and Chan had to restrain himself from reaching over and knocking some sense into his second-youngest. Giving Jisung a warning squeeze, he released him, turning instead to Seungmin on the off chance he would need to block tackle the other boy.

“I’m not taking anybody’s side,” he said calmly, pinning him with a no-nonsense look. “ _You_ made this mess, and I want it out of the living room. So you’re going to put everything back in the room where you found it, and then the three of us are going to talk. Got it?”

“No! It’s not fair!” Seungmin exclaimed, and he actually _stamped his foot._

“What are you, five?” Jisung asked sardonically, and Chan actually _did_ need to restrain Seungmin as he whirled around to retaliate.

“Han Jisung! Not helpful,” He scolded sharply. “Do I need to stick you both in a corner to calm down?” They both deflated at that, and Seungmin exhaled angrily through his nose before clenching his jaw and wrestling his way out of Chan’s grip tostart picking up Jisung’s miscellaneous junk and throwing it back into the room. He worked in icy silence, and way more aggressively than he needed to.

“You’re going to break something!” Jisung whined as Seungmin threw another armful of knick knacks onto the floor of their room. Seungmin ignored him.

“ _Seungmin_ ,” Chan sighed. Seungmin didn’t respond, but his tosses did become slightly less aggressive. As soon as Jisung’s stuff had been thrust back into the room, Seungmin stormed out the door, needlessly elbowing Jisung on the way by.

“Hey!” Chan said sharply, before Jisung could retaliate. “That was uncalled for.” Seungmin blew him off, stalking towards their front door. Chan rolled his eyes and made to follow him.

“Stay put,” he called over his shoulder to Jisung. “I’ll be back to deal with you soon.” He caught up with Seungmin in the front entryway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He frowned, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms. Seungmin glanced up briefly from where he had been doubled over to put a pair of runners onto his feet.

“Leave me alone,” the younger said shortly.

“No, I’m not done talking to you, you’re not going out. Come here,” Chan said, stepping further into the vestibule. Seungmin ignored him.

“ _Seungmin_ ,” Chan warned. Seungmin rammed the other shoe on his foot, wrenched the door open and stormed out.Chan sighed and grabbed a random pair of slides, shoving them hastily on his feet before he took off in pursuit. Seungmin only made it a halfway down the hall before Chan caught his wrist. He tripped as the force of the pull threw him backwards into Chan’s chest. His own jaw set in a firm line, Chan frogmarched the second maknae back into the privacy of their dorm entrance, closed the door, spun the boy around and landed a handful of smarting swats to the boy's behind. Seungmin shot upright with a yelp and spun on his heel to scowl at him.

“You deserved that. I suggest you start cooperating with me or this will get a lot less fun for you. Shoes off,” Chan said sternly. Seungmin stepped out of his runners and glared at the floor. Chan nodded. “Let’s go to my room,” he said, gesturing towards the hallway. Seungmin pushed off and stormed past him in stony silence. Chan sighed and followed him.

When they arrived, Seungmin propped himself up against Chan’s desk, jaw clenched and arms crossed as he glared past Chan at the wall behind him. Chan sighed. He did _not_ want to deal with an agitated Seungmin at the moment.

“I’m going to give you a few minutes to calm down,” he said. “Try not to trash my room in a fit of anger?” That last comment was absolutely unnecessary, it wasn’t likely that Seungmin would resort to throwing things around in a fit of rage. Changbin might, in the same situation. Felix too, if he was really having an off day. Minho was more likely to throw something _at_ someone, and he imagined Jeongin would be capable of similar, though he had yet to see the maknae angry. But from the one or two times he had seen Seungmin angry, there hadn’t been much collateral damage. Even on rare occasions that he was truly pushed over the edge, his outbursts were calculated and controlled. Jisung’s mess on the floor of their room had been that final push, and he had responded in kind by lashing out at the mess and the mess only. Chan knew this. Still, he felt slightly vindicated when Seungmin wilted at the comment. Seungmin still knew better than to act as he had, and Chan had about a million other things he’d rather be doing on his day off than dealing with this situation. He closed the door and left Seungmin to (hopefully) let some of his residual anger boil off.

He ducked in to see Jisung, who was sprawled out on the floor amidst his mountain of belongings and playing on his phone. Walking over, he squatted down next to the boy and plucked the device out of his hands, turning it off.

“Wha- Hyung!” Jisung whined.

“What’s your side of the story?” Chan asked as the younger boy reluctantly propped himself up on his elbows.

“What did Seungmin tell you?” Jisung asked. He was going on the defensive, then. Interesting.

“Haven’t talked to him yet,” Chan said. “And even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m asking you for your side, not his.” He raised his eyebrow pointedly. Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what his problem is,” he said. Chan mentally face-palmed. _Sure you don’t, Kid._

“Oh, don’t you?” He said.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Jisung insisted, putting his hands up defensively.

“Right, because Seungmin is most definitely prone to unprovoked fits of rage. Come on, Jisung, we both know that’s not true. What did you do to him?” Chan sighed.

“I didn’t start this,” Jisung said stubbornly.

“Really. You can’t think of anything you’ve done, or maybe neglected to do that may have set him off?” Chan said skeptically, sweeping his hand over the pile of junk in the middle of the room. Seungmin _had_ been asked the other boy for weeks to clean up after himself.

“Why are you getting mad at me? _He’s_ the one who started the fight over something small! _He’s_ the one you should be mad at!” Jisung spat, sitting up to meet Chan at eye level.

“I’m not mad at either of you,” Chan said. “And _yes_ , Seungmin was absolutely in the wrong for acting out the way he did and I’ll deal with that. But you’re not blameless here either. Maybe you should give that some thought before the two of you talk.” And with that, he stood up and made to leave the room.

“Hyung, my phone?” Jisung whined, reaching out his hand.

“I think I’ll keep it for now,” Chan said airily. “To make sure you’re not distracted while you’re reflecting on your hand in this mess. You’ll get it back later.” He pocketed the phone and sauntered out of the room.

When he returned to his own room, he found Seungmin lying down on his bed, face buried in his pillow. The younger didn’t even shift when he closed the door behind him.

“You ready to talk?” He asked softly, perching himself on the edge of his bed and putting a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder.

“Why? It’s not like you’re going to listen to me anyways,” Seungmin raised his head long enough to retort before he sullenly stuck his face back in the pillow. Chan had to suppress a sigh.

“That’s not true,” he chastised quietly.

“Yes it is!” Seungmin snapped, flopping over to face him. “You didn’t listen to me before, why would you bother now? Nobody _ever_ listens to me!” Chan blinked at him. Evidently there was way more that needed to be unpacked there. He refrained from immediately shooting down Seungmin’s accusations. The vocalist was evidently still emotional, and trying to reason with him would only exacerbate the situation. He knew Seungmin would probably take back his words once he had calmed down.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he said instead. “But I’m here to listen now. What do you mean when you say no one ever listens to you?”

“Exactly that,” Seungmin cried, looking up at him. “You didn’t even give me a _chance_ to explain myself before you sided with Jisung! You just let him stand there and made **_me_** clean up _his shit_ -“

“ _Language_ ,” Chan scolded.

“-Never mind that I’ve been asking him _since we moved dorms_ to not leave a mess on the floor, or that I tripped over his stupid tote that he left out and bruised my wrist, somehow this entire thing still _my_ fault and **_I’m_** the one stuck cleaning up after him as per usual! It’s not _fair!”_ Seungmin’s breath stuttered, and Chan could tell that he was fighting back tears. The good news was that he now had some idea about what the root cause of Seungmin’s uncharacteristic outburst was. The bad news in that the emotional distress had apparently run deeper than this isolated incident. It would be okay, though. Chan had a good idea about how to fix it. 

“Jisung hasn’t been very considerate of you the last few weeks, huh?” He mused. Seungmin nodded, taking a shaky breath.

“Oh, Minnie,” Chan sighed sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice how upsetting this has all been for you.”

 _“It’s not that hard!”_ Seungmin said desperately. “I’m not even asking him to vacuum, I just want the floor to be clear! Is that too much to ask?”

“It’s not,” Chan assured him, pulling him into his arms. “My poor Minnie.”

“I just- I- Why do I always have to be the one who compromises? Don’t my feelings matter too?” Seungmin looked up at him with red, pleading eyes and Chan all but crushed the boy in a hug.

“Oh, Baby, of _course_ they do,” he murmured. “I’m sorry if we ever made you feel otherwise.” Seungmin shuddered in his arms.

“Our Seungminnie is always so considerate of others. It’s one of your biggest values. I bet that makes it hurt even more when people don’t extend the same courtesy to you, huh?” Seungmin sagged into his shoulder and nodded, and Chan knew he had hit the nail on the head.

“Does it sometimes feel like we take for granted how willingly you compromise?” He asked gently. Another nod.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” he murmured, kissing Seungmin’s fluffy hair. “Next time you feel like that you need to tell someone, okay? I want you to assert yourself when you need to.”

“Okay,” Seungmin whispered.

“But maybe go about it in a more constructive way?” Chan suggested mildly. Seungmin cringed, and Chan pulled away slightly to look down at the younger with a look of moderate disapproval.

“Regardless of how Jisung made you feel, there was no need to react as explosively as you did. What should you have done instead?”

“Talked to Jisung,” Seungmin sighed. “But I _tried that_ -“

“I know,” Chan said. “I’ve heard you talk to him about it before. But what should your next step have been, if you couldn’t solve it between you two?”

“Come to you,” Seungmin muttered, blushing.

“That’s right. I would have backed you on this one, Jisung really does need to be more considerate of shared spaces. What I _won’t_ get behind is the horrific attitude you had with me when I had to break the pair of you up. I understand you were upset, but that doesn’t justify how you spoke to me _or_ how you disobeyed me. That was unacceptable. Do you understand that?” Seungmin ducked his head.

“Sorry, Hyung,” he mumbled, picking guiltily at his fingers.

“Apology accepted,” Chan said. “But there are still going to be consequences. We’ll talk more about that after we’ve talked with Jisung. Are you ready for that conversation, or would you like a few minutes?”

“A few minutes, please,” Seungmin murmured. Chan hummed his acknowledgment.

“Do you want me to stay or leave?” He asked gently.

“Stay,” Seungmin murmured. He was still leaning heavily on Chan’s shoulder, and Chan could physically feel how the metaphorical fight left the younger’s body as the minutes ticked by. His muscles began to relax and about ten minutes in, Chan watched his jaw finally unlock. He gently nudged the younger boy.

“I’m gonna go get Hannie now,” he warned him. Seungmin nodded and slipped out of Chan’s arms. Chan went and retrieved the boy in question and sat him down next to Seungmin on his bed.

“Now that you’re both capable of being a little bit more civilized,” Chan started. “Do you think you’d be able collaborate with each other to explain to me what exactly happened this morning?”

“Why? You’ve got it figured out already,” Jisung said.

“I’ve got the general idea but I’d love to hear the specifics,” Chan said, quirking his eyebrow. “Tell me exactly how this went down.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Jisung blurted out. “I just walked into the room after my shower and Seungmin was throwing my stuff around so I told him to put it back.”

“Well _actually_ ,” Seungmin retorted. “It _was_ your fault. I tripped over _your_ shit that _you_ left out, so technically _you_ injured me first.”

“First?” Chan cut in sharply. “What do you mean, first?” Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“I- Slip of the tongue?” He tried.

“ _Seungmin_ ,” Chan warned.

“ _Fine_ ,” Seungmin groaned. “I may have thrown a notebook at his head.”

“And tried to shove me into the wall,” Jisung added.

“You did that to me first!” Seungmin yelped, sitting up straighter and turning to glare at Jisung.

“ _Boys_ ,” Chan sighed. “Okay. So you started pushing the other kid on the playground, what else happened?”

“Nothing,” Jisung shrugged. “That’s when you came and Seungmin threw a tantrum.”

“It was _not_ a tantrum,” Seungmin hissed. Jisung was right, it was, but his comment was _incredibly_ unhelpful.

“Okay, Min, why don’t you tell me what led up to this?” He said, expertly diverting the conversation.

“I told you, he left his stuff out to trip me after I asked him a million times to clean up after himself and hurt my wrist!”

“It was not a million times,” Jisung said scathingly.

“Close to,” Seungmin retorted. “I ask you over, and over, and _over_ to keep **_our_** room clean, but you don’t seem to care! I wouldn’t have had to throw your things out if you’d just take five seconds out of your day to put things back when you’re done with them!”

“You didn’t have to throw my things out anyways! And it’s not _my_ fault you weren’t watching where you were going!” Seungmin’s jaw was starting to clench again and he looked about ready to throttle the other boy, so Chan very quickly stepped between them. Or, well, he stepped closer to them so he could pry them off of each other if needed.

“O-kay!” Chan said. “That’s enough of that, you both need to take a big breath.” They both huffed peevishly. Chan ignored it.

“You’re both in the wrong here,” he said. “Jisung, you shouldn’t have brushed off Seungmin like you did. He’d been asking you for weeks to clean up and you didn’t, which not only invalidated his feelings, but also led to him getting injured. You need to be more respectful of your shared space. It’s not that hard to pick things up when you’re done with them.” Jisung scowled at the floor.

“And Seungmin,” Chan said, turning back to the other boy, who was now substantially calmer. “Throwing all of Jisung’s stuff out of the room was _not_ an appropriate solution. You shouldn’t have provoked him or disrespected his belongings by throwing them around.” He tilted both their chins up to look at him.

“And you _both_ need to apologize for trying to physically fight each other,” he said sternly. “You don’t resort to pushing somebody just because they upset you. You guys are better than that.” Both boys withered as he uttered what he knew to be one of their least favourite sentences. Felix had told him a few weeks ago that hearing him say ‘you’re better than that’ made them feel like they were being crushed under the weight of the disappointment of the entire human race. Chan thought that was probably a _bit_ of a hyperbole, but he couldn’t deny the effectiveness of the phrase, as both Jisung and Seungmin immediately sagged their shoulders and taken to staring at their feet.

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” Seungmin said timidly after a minute. “I got irrational and took it out on you. And I’m sorry for pushing you and throwing a book at you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jisung said. “For not cleaning my shit up and for trying to physically fight you.” Chan nodded in satisfaction.

“Good,” he said. “Here’s what’s going to happen now. Jisung, you’re going to go clean your room _spotless_ , including vacuuming, mopping, dusting and laundry.” 

“ _What?_ All by myself?“ Jisung yelped, fight returning to him in an instant as he jumped up off Chan’s bed in indignation.

“Yes, by yourself,” Chan said firmly. “Poor Seungmin has been doing all the cleaning in your room since the move and you’ve done none, so you get to make up for that by doing a deep clean now.”

“Fine,” Jisung muttered sullenly. Chan nodded.

“You can have your phone back once your bedroom is clean to Seungmin’s standards.”

“Why to _Seungmin’s_ standard? He’ll just say it’s not good enough to spite me!” Jisung whined, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend.

“No he won’t,” Chan said, shooting Seungmin a pointed look. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.” Seungmin rolled his eyes, but Chan ignored it.

“Off you go,” he said, tapping the younger producer’s butt to get him going. Jisung grumbled and sulked off down the hall.

“And you,” he said, turning to the vocalist. “You’re going to hand write me a self-analysis essay reflecting on the events of today, what you were feeling, why you acted the way you did and what you should have done differently.” Seungmin groaned at his sentence and flopped over onto Chan’s pillow. Chan was quite proud of this particular punishment. It was tedious enough that Seungmin would likely think twice about pulling a similar stunt in the future, but gave the younger the opportunity to express himself and feel like he was being heard, because evidently that was something that needed to be reinforced. It might even give Chan new insight into Seungmin’s internal processing, as the second-youngest was alarmingly good at hiding when something was eating away at him, apparently.

“And I’ll be needing your phone,” Chan added, holding his hand out expectantly. Seungmin reluctantly took the device from his front pocket and relinquished it. Chan nodded in satisfaction.

“Thank you. Go grab your pencil case,” he said. Seungmin suppressed a sigh and went off in search of his school bag. Chan paused to set aside the confiscated phones and grab a few pieces of lined paper, then made his way to the kitchen. He wrote out a quick outline on the first sheet of paper with all the discussion points he wanted Seungmin to hit, then set the papers at the kitchen table. Seungmin shuffled into the room a minute later, pencil case in hand and glasses perched on his nose, which was wrinkled in displeasure. He was adorable. Chan gestured to Seungmin’s place at the table, and Seungmin plopped down reluctantly and started skimming over Chan’s instructions.

“Hyung!” The boy moaned. “Five pages?”

“Or a thousand words, whichever comes first,” Chan grinned smugly. “Write clearly and neatly or you have to start again. I’ll read it over when you’re done.” Seungmin grumbled, but pulled one of his fancy school pens out of his pencil case and got to work.

Chan puttered away in the kitchen as the boys worked, cleaning out and wiping down their three fridges before prepping a simple lunch, stopping every once in a while to check on one penitent or the other.

Unsurprisingly, Seungmin finished first. He had the longer attention span and fewer tasks to complete of the two. After just shy of two hours, Chan was presented with five pages of neatly written apology and self-reflection, along with a full page of outlines and rough work.

He ushered Seungmin over to the couch to sit with him as he read it over, tucking the fidgety boy close to his side. Seungmin didn’t meet his eyes the entire time, and his cheeks and ears were dusted pink with embarrassment. Chan hummed his approval and ruffled the boy’s hair when he finished reading.

“Thank you, Minnie,” He said gently. “You articulated yourself really well here. How are you feeling now?”

“Tired,” Seungmin replied, but Chan had a feeling that what he _really_ meant was something along the lines of ‘I’m still feeling off-kilter and embarrassed and I need to sleep off the residual guilt.’ He kissed the boy’s head, and Seungmin snuggled into his side.

“Why don’t you go lie down in my room, then?” Chan suggested. “Jisung’s nowhere near done with yours.” Seungmin nodded, and Chan ushered him off down the hall. He hid the essay in his desk drawer away from nosy dongsaengs’ eyes and double-checked that the boys’ phones were locked away before he left Seungmin alone to his nap. When he re-entered the living room, he nearly tripped over Jisung, who was sprawled on the floor.

“What are you doing?” He sighed, looking down at the boy, who was pouting dramatically back up at him.

“Can you help me?” Jisung asked.

“Nope,” Chan said. “Unless you need help finding something, in which case, cleaning supplies are on the shelf next to the washing machine. In case you forgot, I know it’s been a while since you’ve laid eyes on them.”

“I know where the cleaning supplies are,” Jisung scoffed.

“Coulda fooled me,” Chan retorted. “Get going if you want your phone back anytime soon.”

“Hyung it’s so much work! I’m _never_ gonna get it all done!” Chan rolled his eyes heavenward.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I won’t,” Jisung retorted. “I’m _dying_ here.”

“Stop exaggerating,” Chan scolded. “How much do you have left? Have you at least gotten all your things off the floor?” He peered into the boys’ open bedroom door. There did seem to be some moderate improvement amongst the chaos. At least the laundry was all in baskets now.

“Put all your laundry out in the hall, that’ll clear up floor space so you can vacuum and mop in between loads. That’s as much help as you’re getting from me. Off you go,” he said, nudging the boy in the ribs with his toe. Jisung grumbled and rolled across the living room floor towards his bedroom door. Chan suppressed a snort and settled down at the communal desk in the living room to see if his family was free to Skype.

Seungmin shuffled in after he had been on a call with his family for about an hour and perched himself on the armrest of his chair, peering at the screen. Chan tugged the boy down into his lap so he could see the screen better and removed his headphones so he could greet the family. They made small chat for a few minutes, and Chan watched the boy’s body language closely. He suspected Seungmin had something to say to him, but was holding back.

“Hang on a sec, Hannah,” Chan said, interrupting his sister’s story about what had happened at her school dance. He muted his microphone and turned to the younger boy.

“Do you need something, Kiddo?” He asked.

“My phone’s ringing,” Seungmin informed him nonchalantly. Ah, so _that’s_ why this was about. He should have known.

“Is it now,” Chan asked, amused. Seungmin huffed.

“Can I please have my phone back?” He tried again.

“You get yours when Jisung gets his,” Chan said, causing Seungmin to groan.

“So I’ll never get it back, then,” he said.

“Be nice,” Chan scolded, flicking the boy’s temple. Seungmin yelped and tried to squirm his way out of Chan’s lap. Chan released him and shooed him away.

“Go read a book or something,” he called after Seungmin’s retreating form before plugging his headphones back in and turning his microphone back on.

“Sorry, Hannah, what were you saying?”

“ _You’re such a dad, Chris,_ ” his sister teased. “ _We didn’t even have to hear that conversation to see that_.” Chan snorted.

“About that dance of yours,” he said, pointedly redirecting the conversation.

“ _Right! Okay, so Sarah and I were..._ ” Chan settled back into the light-hearted banter with his family. He pretended not to notice that Seungmin had started helping Jisung fold and sort his laundry.

By the time he had said goodbye to his family, the laundry pile had been depleted down to virtually nothing, and he could hear the hum of the vacuum through the closed bedroom door. Shaking his head fondly, ducked into his room to grab his wallet and phone.

“Back in a bit!” he shouted over his shoulder as he went out. He wandered off in the general direction of his favourite local cafe. He happened to run into Changbin and Felix while he was there, on their way back from their run to the mall. He pulled up a chair at their table and listened to Felix ramble enthusiastically about his newest purchases as he slurped a strawberry smoothie. After a while, the three of them made their way back to the dorm, where he was promptly jumped by an enthusiastic Seungmin and Jisung.

“Where _were_ you?” Seungmin demanded.

“I told you I was going out for a bit,” Chan said, holding his arms up defensively.

“What was the point in working hard to clean if you weren’t even going to be here to return our phones when we finished?” Jisung groused. Chan rolled his eyes.

“Right. Sorry, my bad,” he said sarcastically. “I forgot my day off had to revolve completely around your every whim.” Jisung huffed.

“Well, it’s clean now, so can I have my phone back?” He demanded.

“I checked, it’s clean,” Seungmin added.

“Wait, wait, Jisung actually _cleaned_ something today? _Willingly?_ ” Changbin said incredulously. Chan had honestly forgotten he was there.

“It was _not_ willingly,” Jisung retorted. “Don’t get used to it.”

“That is _not_ the takeaway from today,” Chan said flatly. “Maybe I should keep your phone a little longer.”

“ ** _No!_** ” Seungmin and Jisung both yelled. And Chan did his best to suppress a laugh at their identical looks of alarm.

“That won’t be necessary,” Seungmin said quickly. “We already talked it out, he’s going to be better about putting his stuff away. Can we _please_ have our phones back?”

“Alright, alright,” Chan sighed, shucking his winter coat and hanging it up. “Show me the final product.” He followed Seungmin and Jisung to their room, and Changbin and Felix tagged along behind him. He blinked in surprise. The room was immaculate. Every surface had been cleared of clutter, the curtains had been shaken out, Jisung had even made his bed.

“Wow,” he said, astonished. Jisung grinned proudly.

“No way this was Jisung,” Changbin stated, coming into the room. “He doesn’t even know how to work a vacuum cleaner.” Jisung yelped in offence and leapt at the other rapper, who was laughing evilly. Chan rolled his eyes. With the others occupied by the harmless little skirmish, he turned to Seungmin.

“Be honest with me, how much of this was your work?” He asked the other.

“None!” Seungmin yelped. “You think I was going to take his punishment? No way! I just supervised!”

“He did,” Jisung called over his shoulder from where Changbin was holding him in a headlock. “He sat there on his bed going ‘You missed a spot! You missed a spot!’ for _hours_.” Chan snorted.

“You’re a menace,” he informed Seungmin, who smirked evilly up at him. “Okay, okay. Come get your phones.” The two boys both cheered and followed him back to his room to retrieve their coveted technology. Shaking his head fondly as they ran out of the room, he looked down at his own phone to check the time. The others were due home soon, and he didn’t feel like cooking, so he gave the rest of group a call and asked them to pick something up on their way home. An hour and fifteen minutes later, they all wandered in, laden with plastic bags of Chinese. Chan took Jeongin’s bags from him as he took off his coat (so that their contents wouldn’t end up all over the vestibule floor), while Changbin helped the others take the food to the table. Jeongin took his bags back and scampered after them, nearly tripping on the door frame as he went and giving Chan a mini heart attack. He shook his head in fond exasperation and followed the boy out.

He was going to trail Jeongin to the kitchen but was distracted by the sudden ruckus coming from the room of three. Heducked his head in to see what the squabble was this time around, and bit back a laugh as he watched a stupefied Hyunjin get berated by an incredibly vocal and excitable Jisung and Seungmin for leaving his coat and backpack on his desk instead of “in the closet where they belong, what are you, a caveman?”

“Dinner’s ready boys,” he called, putting Hyunjin out of his misery. Seungmin and Jisung both took off, and Hyunjin followed at a much slower pace, once his offending items had been put away properly.

“You’ve created a monster,” Hyunjin whined as Chan followed him out of the room.

“Don’t worry,” Chan sighed as he caught sight of Jisung’s recording equipment that he had left on the couch. “I have a feeling things will be back to normal soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a HUGE thank you to everyone who comments, bookmarks and kudos! I'm a sucker for words of affirmation and I absorb that stuff like a sponge, it genuinely makes my day better. Love you all!


	18. Dead Man Walking Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein something is happening with the maknae but nobody can figure out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of 2. 
> 
> WARNINGS: Chan smacks the back of Jeongin's hand in this which is kinda like spanking? Vaguely?

Yang Jeongin was absolutely done _._ That much was obvious to anybody who had interacted with him in the past few weeks. It made sense, the last few months had been absolute chaos, but he wasn’t just tired. Tired Jeongin was, somehow, exponentially more adorable, and he became more physically affectionate, or at least less averse to the overload of skinship that seven hyungs were overly eager to provide. Chan knew how to navigate a tired Jeongin, all the boys did. It had pretty much become routine with the lifestyle they lived. A typical tired Jeongin got spacey, zoning out for any number of minutes, eyes glazing over as his mind wandered off into his own little world. When he got to this point, they would either gently nudge him back to reality if they were in the middle of something; or else guide his head down onto their shoulder for a nap; or if they happened to be home, would sit with him on the couch under the guise of watching a movie until he inevitably slumped over against the arm rest to sleep.

There was a difference, however, between Tired Jeongin and _Tired_ _Jeongin (TM)_. _Tired Jeongin_ _(TM)_ reared his ugly head once in a blue moon, when the boy had been stretched so thin that he snapped like one of the rubber bands Minho was so fond of using as a weapon. When that happened, he became downright volatile. It was normally a one-off occurance, and he would bounce back when he woke up the next morning (or if their schedule allowed it, after a Hyung-mandated nap).

This time around, however, his foul temper was _decidedly_ not a one-off occurence. He had been walking around for _weeks_ with a cloud of stress hanging over his head, like a fully-charged cumulonimbus that would strike out with lightning at the slightest touch of friction. Chan, Changbin, and even Hyunjin had all tried talking to the boy about it, but every time Jeongin brushed them off. It seemed they could do nothing for the boy except wait out the storm. 

Chan had been expecting the fallout for a while. Emotions had been running high, and he had always known Jeongin to be hyper-sensitive to any conflict in the group dynamic, and there had been plenty of that in the last few weeks. Sometimes, Jeongin reacted to the contention by making himself as agreeable as possible to compensate, and other times he responded by acting out in kind. The latter of those two had become the recent norm, and it was wearing Chan out. It seemed like every day he was pulling the maknae aside to give him a stern talking-to about his rapidly-souring attitude. At this point, he was surprised that there wasn’t a permanent red mark on the boy’s forehead from all the flicks he had been receiving as of late. He knew it was only a matter of time before Jeongin finally reached his boiling point. He hadn’t, however, expected the fallout to happen in public.

They had landed in the United States a week ago to promote their latest English single, and most of the group had had ample time to recover from their jet lag, but Jeongin, it seemed, couldn’t quite seem to shake it. He had been fluctuating between lethargic and agitated, and Chan had made a point having the boy sit next to him during all their promotional interviews, _just in case._ It was a good thing he had, too, as Jeongin’s bad mood had started to spread to Seungmin, and it was easier for him to keep the two of them apart when he had the maknae within arm’s reach. His youngest two were just a _little_ too similar for their own good sometimes.

After their last interview of the day, they had all bundled into their rental van to go to a knockoff Korean barbecue restaurant close to their hotel (the closest thing the American city had to the food they’d eat at home). Jeongin and Seungmin had been arguing _the whole time._ Minho had eventually shut the pair up, but that had done nothing to appease the maknae’s anger, and he had made a show of sticking his AirPods in and turning away from everyone in the vehicle. The tension was palpable.

Their staff had not only booked out the entire restaurant (it was a small enough establishment that their team took up almost the whole space anyways), but had mercifully arranged for a one of the private party rooms to be set up just for the boys themselves to give them some of the privacy and bonding time that Chan insisted was so crucial for their team. Chan thanked God for their understanding manager regularly, but he was especially grateful for his thoughtful actions today, because the boys _really_ needed time and space to decompress right now.

The first five minutes of them being seated at their table had been peaceful, until Chan had realized that the maknae still had his AirPods in. Frowning in disapproval, he had made the boy remove them (even if it was just the boys at the table, it was still rude), but allowed the younger to zone out in his seat. Jeongin had removed his coloured contacts back at their interview location, but up close Chan could see that his eyes were still red and irritated. It was likely due to exhaustion, so as long as he was quiet and behaving Chan was willing to let him rest. It had gone well until Seungmin had accidentally spilled the glass of iced tea had been pouring for himself. Only a few droplets had splashed onto Jeongin’s sweater sleeve, but apparently those were the literal drops that overflowed the metaphorical glass, as Jeongin had started yelling at his fellow vocalist with such vitriol that the entire table froze with shock. Minho was the first to recover.

“ ** _Yang Jeongin!_** ” He said sharply. “You **_do not_** talk to your hyungs that way!” The appearance of Minho’s congrats-you’ve-managed-to-actually-piss-me-off-and-now-you-die tone seemed to jolt Jeongin back to reality (it would, Jeongin was probably on the receiving end of that tone of voice the least out of anyone in the group, even less than Chan himself), as the maknae’s eyes widened almost comically as he shrank down in his seat. Snapping back into leader-mode, Chan extended his hand to the younger. Jeongin looked at him with a rapidly reddening face and tear-filled eyes.

“Give me your hand,” Chan said calmly, and Jeongin obeyed. Chan took it and pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie, giving the boy a couple good smacks on the inside of his wrist. Jeongin’s breath hitched, but he gave no further protest. Chan pulled his sleeve back down.

“You deserve much more than that,” Chan informed him. “But we’re in public.” Jeongin nodded, shrinking under Chan’s glare as he wrapped himself in a hug.

“I can’t believe you,” Minho seethed from down the table. “I know you’re tired, but that was really too much. You **_do not_** talk to _anybody_ that way, let alone your hyung and your friend. Did Seungmin deserve the things you said to him? It was an accident, and he barely splashed you!” Jeongin shuddered and dropped his gaze to his lap, tears trailing down his cheeks.

“You’re just lucky that the staff gave us our own space, because if the managers had witnessed your tantrum you’d probably be getting an official reprimand too,” Chan added. “Do you know how much this could have affected your reputation if other people had witnessed it? How much it could have affected the _team’s_ reputation? If any fans had seen that, if the wrong staff members had seen that, it could have seriously affected our career. Do you understand that? Do you understand how serious this is?”

“Yes, Hyung-nim,” Jeongin stuttered, letting out a breathy sob.

“I hope so,” Chan sighed. “Because if I have to have this conversation with you again I can promise you’ll enjoy it even less.” Jeongin nodded fervently.

“Do you have something you need to say to your hyungs?” Chan prompted. Jeongin nodded, and stood up, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Hyungs,” He whispered, dipping into a low bow. “I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.” Chan nodded, then turned the maknae towards his fellow vocalist.

“Seungminnie-Hyung, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said,” Jeongin sniffled. “I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay, Innie,” Seungmin said quietly, although it was obvious he was still quite upset. The rest of the table echoed his acceptance. Minho tugged Seungmin’s chair closer to his own and started running a hand up and down the boy’s back, pinning Jeongin with another look of cold disapproval. Chan turned back to the maknae.

“Put your head down on the table until the food gets here,” he said. “You’re in time-out.” Jeongin blushed and did he was told, nearly knocking over his _own_ glass of iced tea with his elbow. The irony was not lost on Chan. The room was weirdly quiet except for Minho’s comforting litany as he cheered Seungmin up and Jeongin’s occasional stuttering breaths. Chan could see the tremor in the boy’s shoulders and had to resist the urge to pull him up into his arms. The poor kid was obviously over-tired and overwhelmed. After a few minutes, Jeongin’s breathing evened out, and some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. Chan tentatively reached over and laid a hand on the boy’s back. Jeongin didn’t even twitch. Changbin, who was sitting directly across from the maknae, frowned slightly, leaning over to study the boy closer. Not that he could see anything, the Maknae’s face was fully hidden in his arms. He huffed a surprised laugh that got the attention of the rest of the table. They all glanced Jeongin.

“Did he fall asleep?” Minho asked incredulously, leaning forward to get a better view.

“He did,” Chan sighed. “He’s out cold.” Minho scoffed, but Chan could see the concern reflected in his eyes now that his anger had faded. There was a knock on the door and it slid open as their manager peeked in.

“Everything okay?” He asked. “You guys are awfully quiet- _oh.”_ He frowned at the youngest.

“He’s asleep,” Chan whispered. “Today totally wiped him out.” Their manager nodded slowly.

“I just came to tell you that they’re still prepping the food,” he said. “It should be ready in another half-hour. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” Chan smiled softly. “Gives this one more time to sleep.” The manager gave him a calculating look.

“Chan, can I talk to you for a minute?” He asked. Chan nodded, sliding as carefully as he could out of his chair and followed the manager from the room to explain the situation. The manager hummed in sympathy as he finished.

“He’s been off for a while now,” he pondered. “Any idea why? Is his workload okay?”

“I’ve asked him several times if he needs a break, or to talk to someone and he always says no,” Chan sighed. “It could just be a phase?” The manager thought for a minute.

“Maybe,” he said skeptically. “Or maybe not. We’ll keep an eye on it.” Chan nodded, glancing back towards the door to their private room. The manager chuckled.

“Go back to your kids,” he said affectionately. Chan grinned sheepishly as the man waved him off. When he stepped into the room, it was to the other six all crowding around the maknae’s still-sleeping form. Chan shooed them away and took his place.

“He’s okay, guys. His breathing is steady, he’s just really exhausted. Let him sleep, he’ll probably wake up when the food gets here,” Chan said fondly, running his fingers through the maknae’s hair.

He was right. There wasn’t any hint of burgeoning consciousness in the boy for the next twenty minutes until the food came. Jeongin stayed fast asleep as the waitress set all the side dishes on the table; various vegetables, kimchi, a steamed egg dish and a tofu and radish soup were all laid before them. It wasn’t until she turned on the grill with a loud click that Jeongin finally showed signs of waking. Well, waking was a bit of a stretch. He showed signs of not being fully comatose. Chan kept his hand on the crown of the boy’s head to protect it from getting singed or splattered with grease. That would be a decidedly unpleasant way to wake up. It took another few minutes and the loud sizzling pop of grilling meat to spur the maknae to sit up in his seat. He reached up and rubbed his eyes clumsily.

“Morning, Innie. You back with us?” Chan asked gently, removing his hand from the maknae’s hair to tilt his chin up.

“Hm?” Jeongin frowned in confusion, squinting his eyes in the artificial lighting of the restaurant.

“The food’s here, Innie-ah,” Changbin said gently from across the table, tongs in hand as he flipped the strips of pork on the grill. Normally Chan would be the one wielding the tongs (and the power that came with them) but his hands had been decidedly full, so he had relinquished them to the younger producer.

“Mm,” Came Jeongin’s sleepy reply. Chan smiled fondly at him.

“He’s still half-asleep,” Minho observed, frowning in concern, leaning forward to get a better look as Seungmin tried to hand Jeongin his chopsticks. They slipped from the youngest’s lax fingers and clattered noisily to the floor, causing a concerned murmur to kick up around the table.

“Is… Is he really okay?” Felix asked, biting his lip nervously.

“‘M fine,” Jeongin slurred. At least, that’s what it sounded like he said.

“He’s just sleepy, Lix. You guys go ahead and eat, I’ve got him,” Chan added, waving his hand over the spread of food invitingly. He retrieved Jeongin’s fallen chopsticks and set them aside, then picked up his spoon. “Slide the soup over, it’ll be easier for him to start on that.” Hyunjin sent the bowl down the table, and Chan dipped into it. He blew on the broth and held it up to Jeongin’s mouth.

“Open up, Innie,” he said. Jeongin obeyed seemingly on autopilot, lips closing around the spoon almost mechanically. Chan managed to get a few more bites in before the maknae once again spaced out entirely, absentmindedly biting down on the spoon. Chan poked him in the ribs and he jumped up, mouth opening enough as he squeaked that Chan was able to pull the spoon out again. It was times like these where Chan was truly grateful for how ticklish the maknae was, there were at least three kids he would have had to pinch to wake up.

After a solid few minutes of this routine, Seungmin took the spoon from Chan’s hand because “I can see you crying internally watching everyone else eat the meat while you can’t, Hyung, let me have a turn.” Chan didn’t even try to argue that one, the meat smelled _so good._ And Seungmin was willing, and didn’t _seem_ like he was in the mood to deliberately choke the maknae in retribution for the insults thrown earlier in the night, so he gave the second-youngest the benefit of the doubt.

They took it in turns after that, switching off the spoon like a relay baton and taking turns scoffing down the meat as they went. Eventually, Jeongin started whining with every bite and ducking his head away before he thunked his head down on the table with finality. Chan had only just managed to move the soup out of the way before he drowned in it.

“Guess you’re done, Kiddo,” he chuckled, but exchanged a worried frown with Minho down the table. The main dancer tilted his head towards the door questioningly, and Chan nodded. Minho slid out of his seat and left the room, returning a few minutes later with their manager.

“Is he sick?” The man asked. Chan shook his head.

“There’s no fever,” he said. “He’s just really, really tired. I don’t think he fully woke up since before the last time you came.”

“We should get him back to the hotel, then,” the older man said. “Seriously, he looks _miserable_.” Chan nodded. Bed would be best. Jeongin’s back had to be _killing_ him from being hunched over for so long.

“I’ll come with you,” Chan said.

“No, you stay and eat,” the manager said. “I’ll take him.”

“He shouldn’t be alone,” Chan insisted. “I’ve eaten, I’ll be fine.” The manager sighed fondly.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m ordering getting takeout containers so you can eat more at the hotel. And some for Jeongin too, if he wakes up hungry.”

As soon as the to-go bags were ready, their manager returned to the table and told Chan to meet him at the front door. Chan nodded and slid out from his chair, shrugging on his coat before pulling Jeongin upright as well. When the maknae showed no inclination towards putting on his own coat, Chan wrestled him into it, which was quite the task because the boy’s movements were even more clumsy than usual.

“Say goodnight, Innie,” he said gently, gesturing to the rest of the table. Jeongin blinked slowly, before understanding dawned across his face and he mumbled a “G’ni’hyngs.” Chan then took the Maknae’s hand, and putting one arm around the boy’s waist, just in case, he guided him out to the car. Not long after, they arrived back at the hotel and Chan keyed them into their hotel room. Thank god he had had the foresight to claim the maknae as his roommate for the night. He helped Jeongin remove his coat and shoes and shooed him off in the direction of the beds, before turning to the manager, accepting the proffered takeout containers.

“Let me know how he’s doing in the morning,” the man said. “I can see about getting him time off if he needs it.”

“Thanks, Hyung,” Chan said. “I think he’ll be okay, but I’ll let you know.” The manager nodded and left to go pick up the others, and Chan turned back to Jeongin. After helping him out of his jeans, he tucked the maknae into bed, not bothering to change his shirt or have him brush his teeth. Jeongin was unconscious in mere minutes. Turning off the overhead lighting and switching to the lamp, Chan helped himself to his share of the takeout food (he _had_ been hungry) and pulled out his laptop to fiddle around with a few tracks. Jeongin started stirring about half an hour later, sitting up sleepily in bed.

“Wha- Hyung?” he slurred. “Where’m I?”

“We’re back at the hotel, Innie,” Chan said. Jeongin blinked in confusion.

“Dinner?” He asked.

“You already ate a little, Sweetheart,” Chan reminded him gently, although Jeongin looked like he was hearing the news for the first time. That was concerning.

“Did I?” The Maknae frowned.

“Yeah,” Chan said, worry growing. “You did. Do you not remember at all?”

“Not really,” Jeongin said. He stopped to think. “Maybe?” He pondered. “There was… I think I remember soup.”

“Huh,” Chan said. He couldn’t think of a more apt summary of the confusion he was feeling. “Yeah, we got some soup into you. You didn’t eat much, you were so out of it you couldn’t hold your own chopsticks. Are you hungry now?”

“A little,” Jeongin said quietly. Chan smiled and gestured at the spread on the table. “Help yourself, there’s more in the fridge.” Jeongin mumbled his thanks and climbed up from the bed with his usual level of clumsiness, which wasn’t much of an improvement from his sleep-induced levels of incoordination from earlier but Chan was relieved to see it return. He didn’t bother putting on pants as he shuffled over to the fridge.

“You were really out of it at dinner, In,” Chan said gently after Jeongin had started to eat. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick at all?”

“No, just tired, I guess,” Jeongin said. “I don’t even really remember falling asleep. I just remember yelling at Hyung and people yelling at me and… Yeah…” He trailed off awkwardly, rubbing his arm.

“I’m sorry I yelled like that, Hyung,” he said timidly. “I didn’t mean it- I don’t know why-“

“I know Innie,” Chan assured him. “You were off all day. In fact, you’ve been off for a while. And I think Seungminnie forgives you too, considering he volunteered to help feed you.”

“He did?” Jeongin frowned.

“He did,” Chan said slowly. “Do you really not remember anything?”

“No,” Jeongin said. That was… Definitely cause for concern. At least, Chan thought so but Jeongin just shrugged it off and turned back to his food. When he had finished, Chan shooed him away to brush his teeth and climb back into bed, which he did with no fuss, another sign that he was truly exhausted. The youngest _never_ went to bed without a fight, not when the other kids were still up and having fun. Chan turned back to his work. Half an hour later, after Jeongin was once again fast asleep, there was a soft knock at the door. Chan rose to answer it, and ushered Minho, the late-night guest, into the bathroom so they could talk without disturbing the boy.

“How is he?” Minho asked, plucking Jeongin’s wet toothbrush off the counter, rinsing it off and plopping it in the cup by the mirror.

“Fine, I think,” Chan sighed. “Well… Not fine. He woke up a while ago and I got some real food into him. He said he doesn’t remember the restaurant at all after the fallout. I couldn’t detect a fever or anything.”

“That’s fair, I don’t think he ever fully woke up…” Minho mused. “He was so out of it.”

“Has been for a while,” Chan sighed. “Have you noticed any glaring differences? Has he picked up any bad habits I don’t know about?”

“Don’t think so,” Minho frowned. “Just the colossal attitude.”

“Me neither,” Chan said. “Has he been sleeping okay? You know how Binnie is when insomnia hits…” Minho nodded sagely. They had both dealt with their fair share of Bin’s insomnia-induced eruptions.

“That could be it,” he mused. “But he hasn’t complained about lack of sleep, just about everything else in his life.”Chan snorted.

“I’ll ask Sung, he’s up till all hours, maybe he’s noticed something,” Minho continued.

“Thanks,” Chan murmured.

“So… now what do we do about him?” The dancer asked, crossing his arms in concern.

“I don’t know if there’s much we _can_ do,” Chan said. “Except keep an eye on him.” Minho nodded.

“I still can’t believe what he said to Seungmin at dinner today,” he said. Chan sighed. Minho seemed more offended by the maknae’s behaviour than Seungmin himself, but that was pretty typical.

“He was tired and overwhelmed,” Chan reminded the dancer gently. “And he felt awful afterwards. It had obviously been building for a while.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it,” Minho huffed, and Chan patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“We’ll keep a closer eye on him,” he reiterated. “And we’ll get to the bottom of this. Go back to Jisung before he floods your hotel room again or something.” Minho rolled his eyes.

“That was Hyunjin and Felix, not Jisung,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out of the room. _Eh,_ minor details. Chan snorted and bid the younger goodnight.

Two weeks later, they were back in Korea. Jisung hadn’t been too helpful with the whole Innie Investigation, only shrugging and offering a “Maybe he’s been a little more fidgety in his sleep? I don’t know, I have headphones in most of the time.” They had definitely noticed, however, that Jeongin _was_ decidedly more tired these days, especially in the mornings. It was a little disconcerting to see how lethargic he had become. It was still affecting his mood, too. He hadn’t snapped at anyone quite as harshly as he had back at the restaurant in America, but he was definitely a lot more overwhelmed than usual, and a lot jumpier, too. It was distracting, to say the least, and Chan often found his thoughts and worries drifting back to the maknae’s apparent dilemma.

He had been at the studio trying to work on a track, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t seem to focus, thoughts wandering back to his nice, warm bed at the dorm. He hadn’t been getting much sleep the last few nights, and part of his soul just really seemed to want to be home that night, so he decided to listen to it and head back instead of finishing the song.

He was expecting it to be quiet when he returned, considering it was Stupid O’Clock in the morning. He expected the only footsteps he heard to be his own, but he found that that was definitely not the case. There were definitely slow, ominous, shuffling footsteps coming from down the hall. Shaking away the images of the apocalyptic thriller movie Changbin had coerced him into watching a few days prior (there are no zombies in the dorm, Chan, they wouldn’t know the combination to get in), he toed his shoes neatly onto the mat to dry and stepped into the hallway, peering into the darkness. There was definitely somebody else up, but Chan’s eyes couldn’t quite perceive who it was in the dark. The shadowy figure shuffled closer, seeming not to notice him, or the _bag that had been left out that was right in their path-!_

 _“Watch out!”_ He hissed, a second too late as the non-zombie tripped over the bag, plummeting to the floor and promptly bursting into tears. Chan knew the sound of those tears.

“Innie!” He gasped, closing the distance between him and the maknae in under a second. “Are you okay?” Jeongin tilted his chin up to look at him. Well, not look, per se. Jeongin’s eyes, though open, showed no indication of actively seeing anything. They stared up at him with about as much life as those of Hannah’s favourite baby doll from when they were kids that always gave him nightmares. Shaking off the eerie feeling crawling up his spine, he stooped down next to the maknae and put a hand on his shoulder. That seemed to (finally) shake Jeongin out of his trance.

“ _Ow,”_ the maknae whimpered, dashing his tears away on his oversized pyjama t-shirt. 

“You okay, Kiddo?” Chan asked. “You seemed kind of out of it for a minute there.”

“Must have tripped,” Jeongin mumbled, gingerly holding the wrist he had landed on. Chan frowned.

“Did you hurt yourself? Let me see,” He demanded.

“’S fine, Hyung,” Jeongin nodded. “Just hurts a little.”

Chan sighed and slid his arms underneath the mannae’s armpits, hauling him upright and ushering him off towards the kitchen. Even though Jeongin seemed perfectly with it now- with a mostly intact memory even, it seemed- he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off.

“Let me take a look at it,” he said, flicking on the kitchen light and sitting Jeongin down at the table. His wrist didn’t seem swollen in any way, thank goodness, just a little red from the impact. He retrieved one of the malleable ice packs from the freezer and wrapped it in a cloth, handing it to the maknae.

“It doesn’t seem serious, but we still better ice it, just in case,” he said, sitting down across the table. Jeongin hummed and pillowed his head in his uninjured arm on the table. He was already starting to doze off again. Chan almost let him, too, the kid was obviously exhausted, but he still had this niggling suspicion that something wasn’t quite right.

“What were you doing out of bed at this hour anyways?” Chan asked, resting his own chin on the table so that he was at eye level with the youngest.

“Mm?” Jeongin yawned. “Oh. I was just grabbing a drink. I think. I don’t know, I was still pretty tired.”

“Were you even awake?” Chan asked. “You seemed really out of it. Do you think you might have been sleepwalking?”

“I haven’t sleepwalked in _years,_ Hyung,” Jeongin brushed him off with a careless wave of his injured hand, nearly sending the ice pack careening off the table. Chan caught it before it slid off and tucked it smoothly back under the injury. “Not since I was a kid. I just woke up and realized I was thirsty. That’s all.”

“You didn’t even notice I was in the hallway though,” Chan pressed. Jeongin shrugged.

“It was dark,” he said. “I couldn’t even see the bag in front of me.” That was fair, Chan supposed. He himself had made many a half-awake trek to the kitchen for a glass of water to make Jeongin’s explanation feasible. Maybe he was overreacting. Regardless, it was time for maknaes to be back in bed and sound asleep once more… or for the first time. Jeongin had evidently not been _soundly_ asleep. _Lightly_ asleep, _maybe_. Rising from his seat, Chan took the ice pack and returned it to the freezer, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge while he was there.

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out. “Let’s get you back to bed.” Jeongin nodded, accepting the water bottle as Chan ushered him back towards his room. He stopped the maknae just outside his bedroom door.

“Innie…” he started. Jeongin looked up at him expectantly (and the tiniest bit impatiently, but Chan couldn’t fault him that, it was late). “How much sleep are you getting these days? Do you normally wake up in the middle of the night like this?”

“Fine I think,” the youngest frowned. “I mean I sometimes wake up, or maybe I just dream I wake up. I don’t know. Why?”Interesting. Chan made note of that tidbit of information for later. Any deviation in Jeongin’s normal sleep cycle was a piece to the puzzle.

“You just don’t seem as well-rested these days, is all,” Chan said lightly, trying not to step on the younger’s metaphorical toes. Jeongin could be quite grumpy when he was only half-awake.

“‘’M fine, Hyung,” the boy assured him. “Like I said, it’s entirely possible I just dreamed that I woke up. I always get realistic dreams like that.” The fact that Jeongin actually _remembered_ his dreams enough to say that with such certainty was also cause for concern, but Chan didn’t feel like now was the time to address that. Instead he nodded.

“Okay, In. As long as you’re okay,” Chan said. He planted a chaste kiss on the maknae’s forehead and pushed him lightly towards his bed. “Go back to sleep, we’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He lingered in the doorway long enough to make sure the maknae was actually settled in under his covers before trudging off to his own room and his own bunk. He tapped a quick note in his phone to remind him to talk to Minho about Jeongin’s sleep patterns in the morning before drifting off himself. Jeongin was okay. He had just been tired, that’s why his reaction time had been so slow.

… _Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going on with the maknae? Stay tuned to find out! 
> 
> ALSO, I've had several people ask me if I take requests! I first off want to thank you for your enthusiasm and dedication to the story, because it is so gratifying that you find my characterizations engaging enough that you can develop your own plot points. I love it! The answer is yes and no. I prefer to call them "suggestions" because I love to hear your ideas and incorporate, but this story is kind of my baby and so I need to write what feels organic to me. But please, please, please, drop ALL the headcannons and plot point suggestions you've got because y'all are so creative and you never know what could come from them! There have been some great ones so far! :)


	19. Dead Man Walking Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they figure out what's going on with the maknae and try to help him fix it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Part 2! :)

A couple weeks had now gone by and Chan was still on edge. He absolutely _hated_ that there was a problem being left unsolved, that one of his members was struggling and he was seemingly powerless to help them. He had talked to Minho about the incident, and they had come to the consensus that the behaviour was decidedly _weird,_ but they couldn’t do anything about it until they knew for absolutely certain what was going on. They had tried talking to Jeongin again, but that maknae had just reiterated that he had just been going to get a glass of water, adamant that he had been conscious of what he’d been doing at the time. They had reluctantly let the matter go, and settled into as normal a routine as they could.

That normal routine led to Chan hunched over his laptop in his office, poring over a new track they had concocted that had the potential to replace their current projected comeback title track. He had gotten on a roll, but when his phone had started ringing beside him it had jolted him out of the zone. Groaning in frustration, he swiped to decline the call and tried to refocus on the track. _What was it that he had been working on again?_ Right, the snare. He pulled up a different sample to replace the one already in the track and fiddled with it, cutting it down to size when his phone started ringing again. He glanced down at the caller ID and groaned. _What could Changbin possibly need at this hour of the night?_ He accepted the call.

“ _Holy Shit, Hyung,”_ was the first thing he heard when he picked up. _“Why didn’t you pick up the first time?”_

“Language!” He scolded, more out of habit than anything. It wasn’t like Changbin would listen to him anyways. “What happened?”

“ _Hyung, Innie escaped,_ ” The younger producer said.

“Escaped? What do you mean, escaped?” Chan demanded. Jeongin wasn’t usually the type to sneak out in the middle of the night.

_“I mean he got up, walked out of his room, opened the front door and walked out. He didn’t even grab_ **_shoes_ ** _, Hyung!”_

“Shit,” Chan muttered. “He’s sleepwalking.”

“ _Yeah no shit, he’s sleepwalking!_ ” Changbin yelped. “ _He made lobby before we caught up with him! The elevator closed before we could get on with him, we had to sprint down the stairs!_ ” Chan’s blood ran cold. That was bad. _Really, really bad._ Their dorm was nine floors up, if the boys hadn’t made it in time… He shuddered.

“But you got him, right?” He demanded urgently. There was a scuffle on the other end of the line, and muffled voices.

“Changbin?” He pressed. “Please tell me my youngest isn’t roaming the streets of Seoul barefoot and virtually unconscious?”

“ _What, did you think we’d just let him wander? Who do you think we are?_ ” Changbin huffed.

“Changbin!” Chan groaned in exasperation.

_“Yeah, Minho-hyung grabbed him before he could walk out the front door. We just got him back into the dorm. We’re trying to avoid waking him up, that’s apparently a bad idea_ \- _No no no, I.N-ah, don’t open that-!_ ” Chan cursed to himself.

“I’m coming home,” he said, throwing his stuff in his backpack. “I’m getting a cab, I’ll be there in twenty. Just… keep him alive?”

“ _Can do_ ,” Changbin said. “ _God, this is creepy, Hyung. It’s like he’s a puppet or something. I’m gonna have nightmares for_ ** _weeks._** _”_

“I’m hanging up now,” Chan said, hailing a cab.

_“See you soon.”_

When he arrived back to the dorm, he had to stop himself from sprinting down the hall. Their neighbours probably wouldn’t appreciate that, although he was fairly certain they would have been able to hear the commotion from earlier. He was kind of expecting chaos when he walked in the door, and was surprised to find that there simply… wasn’t any.

“I’m home,” he called softly, stepping out of the entryway and sliding the door closed, just in case. It wouldn’t necessarily _stop_ Jeongin from leaving again, but it would at least buy them a few seconds to grab him before he managed to open the front door.

“Hi Hyung,” Changbin said, glancing up from the couch.

“Innie?” Chan asked.

“Over there,” Changbin nodded to the corner of the living room, where Jeongin was standing, facing the wall.

“Why is he…?” Chan frowned.

“Minho-Hyung put him there,” Changbin said, hint of laughter in his voice. “Since he wouldn’t stop trying to run.”

“Minho put him in time-out,” Chan clarified.

“Yup.”

“While he was still asleep.”

“Yup.” _Of course he did_. That _was_ a very Minho move to pull, Chan couldn’t say he was surprised. And he couldn’t deny that it _was_ effective at keeping the maknae contained, even if it was a little unfair to the younger. He sighed.

“And he’s been there since you called me?”

“Pretty much. It was easier to leave him there since he’s less likely to try and escape. Plus it’s hilarious,” Changbin giggled. Chan nodded mutely, still processing his confusion and fond exasperation. He slowly approached the maknae.

“Innie,” he said softly, warning the boy of his approach. The maknae turned slowly to face him. “Innie, Baby, why are you in the corner?” Jeongin frowned briefly before his face once again went blank.

“Hyung tol’ me to,” he slurred. His Busan satoori was bleeding through and Chan could barely make out the words. Chan hummed.

“Why did Hyung put you here?” Chan asked.

“Dunno,” Jeongin pouted. “Wasn’ bein’ bad. Jus’ needed ice cream.” _Ice cream? Really?_ Chan turned to give a now-cackling Changbin a half-assed disapproving look that was _probably_ negated by the smile he felt pulling at his own lips (it _was_ kind of funny) before turning back to the youngest.

“That wasn’t very nice of Hyung,” he said with as much fake-earnestness as he could muster. “Would you like to go back to bed instead of standing here in the corner?” Jeongin nodded, stumbling forward.

“Okay, Innie, but you gotta promise me that you won’t get up again,” Chan said, catching the maknae around his middle. “Do you promise?”

“Promise,” Jeongin garbled. Chan had no idea whether that would actually have an effect on whether the maknae got up or not, but it was worth a shot. The fact that the boy had obeyed Minho and stayed in the corner in the first place showed that his eagerness to please was still at least _somewhat_ present when he was asleep.

“Thank you, Innie,” he said gently. “Let’s get you back to bed, hmm?” Jeongin nodded, and the two shuffled down the hall to the room he shared with Jisung, who was notably absent. He tucked Jeongin back into bed _very thoroughly_ (and made a point of tucking his sheets under the mattress on _all_ sides except where his head poked out, like a very cozy straightjacket), kissing the boy on the head and playing with his hair. He resurfaced from the boy’s room a few minutes later, once he was confident that he was settled down into a more restful sleep. Closing the door, he frowned at the heated voices that were carrying down the darkened hallway. He made his way over.

“Where’s Innie? Changbin what the fuck, I left you in charge of him-! Oh, hi, Hyung,” Minho said as Chan emerged.

“Innie’s in bed,” Chan said. “Hopefully he’ll stay there this time. Where’s Sung?”

“In my room, he was spooked,” Minho said, and Changbin snorted.

“Yeah because you went ape-shit on him earlier- _Ack!_ ”

“Boys,” Chan groaned, sitting wearily on the opposite end of the couch from where Minho was beating Changbin into submission with a pillow. “Quiet down, you’ll wake the others.” Minho finally relented and threw himself down on top of Changbin, and Chan turned to face the pair more fully.

“What happened with Sung?” He asked. Changbin snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Minho-Hyung found out that Jisung knew about Jeongin sleepwalking and didn’t do anything about it and went berserk,” he said. “Screamed at him for like ten minutes until he burst into tears.” Chan frowned at that.

“I did not _scream_ at him,” Minho refuted, rolling his eyes. “And even if I had, he’d have deserved it. He knew about Jeongin’s sleepwalking and didn’t say anything, _and_ he let him escape. Did you miss the part where we almost had to chase Jeongin out into the street?”

“Yes you did. And it set Innie off again, because apparently a distressed Jisung needs ice cream from the corner store as well to make him feel better,” Changbin argued. _Oh, Jeongin._ Even in his sleep, the kid was precious. Chan’s heart was going to burst any day now. Minho and Changbin’s arguing had started to increase in volume again.

“Hold on a minute,” Chan cut in, zeroing in on the important content mixed in with all the insults being thrown. “When you say he knew about it, what do you mean?”

“Apparently Jeongin’s been pretty restless in his sleep the last little while. He was pacing their room a couple nights ago, just got up and started opening and closing their closet and drawers for a few minutes before getting back into bed, didn’t answer when Jisung asked what he was doing,” Changbin said.

“The idiot didn’t think to mention it until tonight. He woke up when we were trying to get Jeongin back into the dorm, and decided to grace us with his knowledge at that point,” Minho rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t Jisung’s fault!” Changbin insisted. “How was he supposed to know Jeongin would make a break for it? None of the rest of us suspected anything!”

“ _We_ did!” Minho argued, indicating himself and Chan. “And we specifically asked him _weeks ago_ if he had noticed any weird sleeping habits! I think walking around like he’s possessed in his sleep is pretty damn weird!”

“Okay, fair, but telling him that it was his fault that Jeongin ran off was overkill,” Changbin retorted.

“He could have prevented it!” Minho shot back. “If we had known that he had started walking we could have prepared for it so that he didn’t end up walking straight out into oncoming traffic!”

“ _Shhhh!_ ” Chan hissed, glancing worriedly towards the bedrooms. “Calm down, you two!” Changbin huffed, attempting to Minho off of him to sit up. Chan sighed wearily.

“Minho, I know your adrenaline is running pretty high,” he said. “But taking it out on Jisung wasn’t fair. I think he’s got the gravity of the situation without the need for you to berate him about it.”

“Jeongin could have _died,_ Hyung!” Minho protested indignantly.

“I know! I know,” Chan placated. “I know this is serious. But to my knowledge, Jisung didn’t deliberately _hide_ the bad habits. It’s Jisung, he probably just forgot to mention it. Screaming at the boy isn’t productive _or_ helpful.”

“Makes me feel better thought,” Minho retorted. Chan rolled his eyes.

“Course it does,” he said with fond exasperation. “But you know what will make you feel even better? Apologizing. It’s good for the soul.” Minho pulled a face and Chan threw a wadded up sock at him.

“Go to bed,” he scolded lightly. “And say you’re sorry to Hannie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho waved him off, before pushing off Changbin’s lap with entirely too much force, causing the youngest member of the hyung line to grunt in discomfort. He loped off in the direction of his bed.

“Goodnight, Minho,” Chan called at his retreating figure. “Thanks for your help tonight!” The dancer waved lazily at him before ducking into his room, and Chan turned back to Changbin and sighed.

“Think Sung will recover?” He asked.

“He’ll manage,” Changbin said wryly. Chan nodded. He could always do damage control in the morning if not. He glanced down the hall towards the smallest bedroom. Now that Jisung wasn’t going to be back in the shared room, Chan was hesitant to leave him alone for fear he started getting active again.

“I’ll take Sung’s bed tonight, just in case Innie gets up again,” Changbin said, as though he was reading Chan’s thoughts. Chan was going to protest that _he_ could stay with Innie that night and let Changbin sleep more, but Changbin cut him off.

“Don’t, Hyung,” the producer snorted. “You’ve gotten like nine hours sleep in the last three days combined and you look just as much like a zombie as Innie did. I got, like, ten hours just _yesterday_. I’m fine. He’s quieted down anyways.” Chan couldn’t argue that, so he bid Changbin goodnight. He expected that it would be difficult to fall asleep after the night’s excitement, but he managed to drift off within the hour. It helped that there had been no perceivable movement from down the hall, Jeongin apparently _had_ settled down for the night.

The next morning, he woke up feeling weirdly refreshed. Sitting up and stretching his arms, he glanced around the room. Felix was still asleep, but Changbin’s bed was empty and unmade. It took Chan a minute to remember that Changbin had switched to Han’s bed the night before. Standing up and cracking his back, Chan made his way out of the room to see who else was awake. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen, but as he walked past the vestibule to check the other rooms, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He doubled back and leaned against the doorjamb to see who was in the entryway this early in the day on their day off, and found Minho fiddling with something on the door handle.

“What’s that?” He asked, amused, pushing off the doorframe and peering over Minho’s shoulder at the plastic contraption he was mounting to the doorknob.

“A child lock,” Minho answered simply as he continued to fiddle with the device, glancing briefly up at Chan.

“A child...? _Ah_.” Understanding dawned on him. “Innie?”

“I had it rush-ordered last night,” Minho affirmed. “After he tried to jailbreak.” Of course he had. Chan shrugged. It honestly didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“Last night was _terrifying,_ Hyung,” Minho admitted, letting go of his bravado for a minute as he looked up at Chan and biting his lip. “He almost…”

“I know,” Chan murmured, resting a reassuring hand on Minho’s shoulder. “But he didn’t. You got to him in time and managed to get him back up here in one piece.”

“Took a small miracle,” Minho snorted. “Little shit was bound and determined that he needed ice cream from the convenience store _right that moment._ Never mind that we have four different kinds of ice cream in the freezer already. _”_ Chan chuckled.

“We’ll talk to him later,” he said. “When he gets home from school.”

“He’s not at school,” Minho said. “I turned off his alarm so he could sleep in. I called the managers and they called him in sick.” Chan knew that the driver usually picked Jeongin up at around seven o’clock to drive him to school when they had a weekday off, which meant he would pick up the company car at around six-thirty. Which meant that Minho had called before that. _How long had the dancer been up already? Had he slept at all?_ He looked shot Minho a fond look that Minho waved off with an eye roll.

“Thanks, Minho,” Chan said. “We have all day, then. Plenty of time. Who else is up?”

“Just me and Seungmin,” Minho said, turning back to the new mechanism on the handle and fiddling with it. “He’s in the shower.” Chan nodded and opened his mouth to ask about Jisung, but was cut off by Minho snapping the child lock fully into place.

“There,” he said triumphantly, giving it a test-twist. “I’d like to see him bust through that.” Chan just shook his head and smiled.

“How’s Hannie?” He asked as Minho stood up and brushed off his knees, before testing the locking mechanism to see how it opened.

“He’s fine,” Minho said dismissively as he played with it. Chan rolled his eyes.

“Really, Minho,” he said flatly.

“He is,” Minho insisted. “ _Really_. He was just a little spooked, we all were. He slept in my bed last night, we’re cool.”

“Did you apologize for taking your stress out on him?” Chan asked pointedly. Minho snorted.

“He’s fine,” he said.

_“Apologize,”_ Chan chided.

_“I will,”_ Minho mocked in the same tone. Chan sighed and cuffed the dancer upside the head.

“Brat,” he said flatly. Minho grinned at him and brushed past, headed towards the kitchen. Chan laughed and followed, tugging open one of their fridges to look for inspiration for breakfast. Minho put on a pot of coffee, and they settled into a rhythm of breakfast prep, casually taking note of the muffled sounds of various dongsaengs beginning to stir from sleep.

Jeongin shuffled into the kitchen a short while later, hair still ruffled and sticking out every which way. The frayed ankle seams of his well-worn pyjama pants just barely covered his bare toes and he looked adorably tiny, and surprisingly refreshed considering his midnight escapades the night before. Apparently the extra four hours of sleep-in time had worked wonders. Chan smiled at him and beckoned him over to the table. Jeongin waddled over and plunked down in the seat next to him, tipping his chair back on the hind legs carelessly. Chan pushed the seat back down pointedly. A concussion first thing in the morning would kind of negate the whole rescue mission from the night before.

“Morning, Innie,” he said fondly, messing up the boy’s hair further.

“Morning Hyung,” Jeongin beamed at him, before reaching up and trying to comb his hair down.

“Here,” Minho said, approaching the table and handing the boy a heaping bowl of chocolate ice cream.

“Thanks!” Jeongin chirped as he accepted the bowl. “But why are we having ice cream for breakfast?” The question was barely intelligible around the heaping spoon that the maknae had already shoved in his mouth. Apparently his suspicion of Minho and the sudden flout of the “no dessert for breakfast” rule had been outweighed by the childish impulse to consume said forbidden food as quickly as possible before it got confiscated again.

“You seemed pretty keen on having some last night,” Minho said casually, and Jeongin choked on his spoon. Chan facepalmed. That’s not exactly how he’d have chosen to bring it up.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t talk about ice cream at all yesterday,” Jeongin said, confused.

“Oh, you definitely did talk about it yesterday,” Minho informed him. “You did more than just talk, too. You tried to go out and buy some at like two in the morning. Barefoot. With no coat. In the winter. Ring any bells?” Jeongin frowned as he popped the spoon out of his mouth.

“No, why would I- _Shit,”_ he muttered as he realized. “I sleepwalked last night, didn’t I?” Chan let the language slide.

“You did,” he confirmed.

“You almost made it out into the streets, Kiddo,” Minho added. “We had to chase you down and bring you back.” Jeongin’s face paled, and he fiddled with his spoon nervously, turning it over in the bowl.

“Oh no,” he said. “I’m sorry, I-“

“You couldn’t help it, Innie,” Chan said quickly. “You were asleep. We’re just trying to figure out how we can help you now.” Jeongin avoided eye contact, still mixing his ice cream, which was quickly melting into a creamy sludge.

“Innie,” Chan said gently, laying his hand gently on Jeongin’s arm. “Is everything okay? Is there something that brought this episode about?” Jeongin shrugged.

“Sungie said you’ve been restless in your sleep for a while now,” Minho added. “So it’s not just a one-off thing. Do you know what could have triggered it?” Jeongin shook his head quickly and took another bite. Chan suppressed a sigh.

“Okay, well what about your sleep habits, then?” He asked. “What do you know about when you used to sleepwalk? What triggered it then, and how’d you treat it?”

“It just happened sometimes,” Jeongin said. “I would feel unsettled or whatever, sleepwalk a few times and then after a couple days things would go back to normal.”

“This has already been going on longer than a couple days, Innie,” Minho frowned, but Chan was more focused on Jeongin’s accidental slip of the tongue.

“What’s making you unsettled, In?” He asked. Jeongin cringed at being caught in the act of downplaying the situation.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shoving another spoonful of ice cream soup in his mouth. It was a valiant effort, but unsuccessful. Chan plucked the spoon out of his mouth and slid the bowl towards him so the younger couldn’t take another. Jeongin pouted and reached out to take it back, practically lying flat on the table to try and reach it. Minho took advantage of his position to poke the boy in the ribs, causing him to shriek and fall back onto the edge of his seat, nearly toppling out of it. Chan snagged his arm to steady him before he fell off his precarious perch on the chair, then used that same grip to pull the maknae closer so he could wrap his arm around him.

“Innie,” he said softly. “Are you okay?” Jeongin squirmed for a minute, then sagged his shoulders and curled into Chan’s side.

“I’m fine. Everything just feels a little weird right now,” he admitted. “I don’t really know why.”

“Why didn’t you come talk to us sooner?” Chan asked, and Jeongin shrugged.

“It’s not like you could have done anything anyways,” he said matter-of-factly. “This time’s weird for all of us, and you can’t help me find a solution if we don’t even know what the problem is.”

“Yeah, but it’s still important for you to tell us these things,” Chan countered. “We can’t fix the problem but we can still support you. Do you need to take a break? You know we can get you the time off if you need it.” Jeongin shook his head rapidly at that.

“You could let me drop out of school,” he said quickly. “Calculus _sucks._ It’s _so_ boring.” Chan snorted. Jeongin begged them to let him drop out on a pretty much weekly basis because he “already had a steady job so why do I need to keep learning stuff that doesn’t relate to it, Hyung?” It was like pulling teeth to get the kid to do anything school-related, and Chan couldn’t even count the number of times that he’d had to scold the boy for copying off his friends’ answers instead of doing his own work.

“No, but nice try,” he said. Jeongin pulled a face.

“Worth a shot,” he muttered. Chan flicked his forehead, and Jeongin yelped and scurried back to his own chair.

“But seriously, Innie. You have to tell someone when you’re struggling, okay? We want to share that burden with you. And who knows, maybe we can help!” Jeongin rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Can I have my ice cream back now?” he asked. Chan relented and handed it over.

“Innie,” he said again, once Jeongin had a mouthful of chocolate sludge in his mouth. “What did your parents do growing up when you would sleepwalk? How did they treat it?” Jeongin blushed faintly.

“Can’t remember,” he said. It was a blatant lie. In the rankings of best to worst liars on their team, Jeongin was dead last. The kid couldn’t fib for anything, and Chan really didn’t know why he even bothered to try anymore, they called him out on it every time. Everything from his inability to look them in the eye for more than a few seconds to the pink-tinted ears gave him away. Chan went to call the maknae out on his lie, but stopped short when Minho suddenly came around the table and attacked the boy in an overly aggressive hug, ruffling his hair and digging fingers into his ribs. Chan looked on, bemused, as Jeongin squawked and tried desperately to escape the attack of skinship. After a minute or so, Minho pulled away, smiling victoriously and retreated to the other side of the table to unlock his- No _,_ that was _Jeongin’s_ phone _._ The second eldest had evidently just pilfered it from the boy’s hoodie pocket. Tapping in the passcode, he started scrolling through the phone before holding it up to his ear. It was at that moment that Jeongin clued into the theft that had occurred. 

“Wha- _Hyung!”_ He exclaimed. “What are you doing? Give me my phone back-”

“Eomeonim, hello,” Minho said, eyebrow cocked in an obvious challenge to the maknae. “This is Stray Kids’ Minho. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” Jeongin yelped in protest and attempted to lunge across the table. Chan pulled the boy into his lap to restrain him. The phone wasn’t on speaker, so Chan couldn’t make out the exact words being spoken on the other end as Minho went through formal greetings.

“Eomeonim, is it okay if I put you on speaker phone? I’m with Jeongin-ah and Chan-Hyung… No, no… Yes,” Minho said. “Okay. I’m putting you on speakerphone now.”

“ _…-He hasn’t been causing you any trouble, has he? Ya! Jeongin-ah, can you hear me now? What did you do?”_

“I didn’t do anything!” Jeongin whined.

_“Is that how you greet your mother?”_ The woman scolded, voice distorted through the phone’s speakers. _“_ ** _Aish_** _, what a disrespectful child I’ve got.”_ Chan bit back a laugh as Jeongin sunk down at his mother’s scolding. He squeezed the boy tightly. 

“Sorry. Hi mom,” Jeongin tried again.

_“Hi, Jeongin-ah,”_ came the fond response. _“Why’s your hyung calling me in the middle of the day? Not that I’m not happy to hear from you, boys. I really am, this is just highly unusual. You said that Chan-ah was with you too? Chan-ah, hello!”_

“Hello Eomeonim,” Chan said cheerfully, not even straining in his efforts to keep Jeongin pinned in his lap.

“Eomeonim, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about Jeongin’s childhood,” Minho started, holding the phone up closer to his face. Jeongin flailed helplessly.

_“Of course,”_ the woman said. The mediocre phone speakers couldn’t quite filter out the confusion and curiosity in her voice.

“No!” Jeongin yelped. “Mom, don’t tell them!” Chan tutted and flicked the boy’s temple.

“Don’t interrupt,” he scolded. “You had the opportunity to tell us yourself.” Jeongin huffed.

“Here’s the thing,” Minho continued, as though the interruption had never happened. “Our Innie has started sleepwalking lately, and it’s started to get dangerous. We know he has a history of sleepwalking, but he won’t tell us what that history is. Could you please tell us how you handled him when he was younger?”

_“Oh, that’s easy,”_ the woman said. _“Aigoo, Jeongin-ah, why didn’t you just share that with them yourself?”_

“Mom, it’s _embarrassing,”_ the boy whined.

_“You know what’s even more embarrassing? Having to chase you outside when you were sleepwalking in nothing but your underwear,”_ his mother retorted.

**_“Mom!”_** Jeongin whined, smushing his face in Chan’s shoulder as Minho tried to choke back a laugh. Chan was mercifully able to keep a straight face for the sake of the maknae’s dignity and patted his back reassuringly.

_“Aigoo, Jeongin-ah, you need to_ **_tell them_ ** _these things! Minho-yah, Chan-ah, how bad is it?”_

“He made a break for it last night,” Minho informed her. “He made it all the way out of the dormitory. That was the first time to our knowledge, but apparently he’s been getting up and pacing in the middle of the night sometimes.”

“I have?” Jeongin frowned. Minho nodded.

“Eomeonim, how did you treat his sleepwalking when he was younger?” He asked her.

_“Lots of child locks,”_ she laughed. _“That at least kept him in the house.”_ Minho shot Chan a smug grin. Chan responded with a fond eye-roll. Jeongin thunked his head against Chan’s chest and groaned.

_“It usually came in spells,”_ his mother continued. _“Usually when he was feeling insecure or unsettled.”_

“And you thought I lied to you,” Jeongin muttered. Chan rammed a finger into his ribs, causing him to shriek.

_“So the biggest thing we did to help was to make him feel as safe and secure as possible at night. We didn’t let him watch TV an hour before bedtime-“_

“That’s **_not_** happening,” Jeongin interrupted. Minho and Chan shushed him.

_“-We also found that having time to wind down before he went to bed really helped him. Whenever he was going through a spell we used to cuddle nightly. It helped him to relax more.”_ Chan caught Minho’s eye and grinned. They could have lots of fun with this one.

_“A mug of warm milk would go a long way, too,”_ the woman continued. _“I used to add a couple drops of honey or a little bit of brown sugar to sweeten it, otherwise he wouldn’t touch it. We would do that nightly for a few weeks, and then he’d settle back down into his normal sleep patterns and that would be that. He’d still sometimes ask for the ‘Magic Milk,’ though, even when he wasn’t walking.”_ She chuckled fondly. Chan thought his heart might burst from the cuteness of that image. Jeongin didn’t feel the same, apparently.

“Make it _end,”_ he moaned, collapsing on the table with exaggerated woe. Chan grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t be embarrassed Yennie, it’s cute,” He crooned. Jeongin thunked his head against the tabletop repeatedly in agitation.

“You’re not making me go through all that,” he peered up at Chan through his bangs.

“Oh we absolutely are,” Minho retorted. “We already have the child lock.” Jeongin jolted straight up.

“You didn’t,” he pleaded.

“We did,” Minho grinned evilly. Jeongin shot up from Chan’s lap and booked it from the room. Chan could tell by the muffled thud that he had careened off the doorframe en route. There was a faint sound of rattling, an attitude-filled _UGH!_ and then Jeongin’s stomping footsteps made their way back towards the kitchen.

“Hyung, take it _off!”_ Jeongin whined as soon as he crossed the threshold of the kitchen.

“Nope,” Minho grinned. Jeongin stomped his foot indignantly, and Chan had to smile.

_“Hyung!”_ Jeongin demanded.

“Not a chance,” Minho said flatly. “I’m not chasing you down nine flights of stairs at stupid o’clock in the morning again.”

“This could help you, Innie,” Chan reasoned. “We won’t make a big deal out of it. We can be subtle.”

“You guys are incapable of being subtle,” Jeongin snapped, then withered at the quelling look Chan sent him.

_“Listen to your Hyungs, Jeongin-ah,”_ his mother called. Chan blinked in surprise, he had forgotten she was still on the line. _“They’re just looking out for you.”_ Jeongin huffed.

“But…“ he trailed off, pleading at Chan with wide doe-eyes and a massive pout.

“We’ll just try it for a few nights,” Chan said. “And if it’s not working we’ll come up with something else. We’ve got to start somewhere, Innie. Don’t you want to be able to sleep restfully again? You’ll function so much better and it’ll help you bring your mood back up again.” Jeongin fidgeted on the spot, brow furrowed in concentration. Chan could practically follow the boy’s internal conflict in his eyes, in the way they kept fluttering off to the right as though he was weighing his options. After a few beats, Jeongin huffed again.

“Fine,” he relented. “But just for a few nights. And you’re _not_ calling it… _That_.” Chan nodded.

“No ‘Magic Milk,’” he promised, shooting Minho a pointed look. Minho rolled his eyes as if to say “Duh!” and turned his attention back to the phone to say goodbye to Jeongin’s mother, before passing the phone back to Jeongin. The maknae took the phone off speaker and scooted off Chan’s lap to chat with his mom for a few minutes before hanging up and turning back to Chan and Minho.

“You betrayed me,” he scowled, pocketing his phone again and keeping a protective hand on it in the pocket. “I’ll never trust you again. See if I ever open up to you again.”

“The reason we had to call your mom is because you _didn’t_ open up to us,” Minho pointed out. Jeongin opened his mouth, then closed it again, sighing in defeat at the lost argument and sliding his ice cream (which was now 100% just “cream”) back towards him. Chan sighed at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jeongin sulked. “This ice cream is the only good thing to happen to me today.” Chan snorted and ruffled his hair fondly.

“It’s still the morning,” he reminded the boy. “There are still hours and hours of opportunity for good things to come, you don’t need to be so grumpy.”

“You _betrayed me,”_ Jeongin reminded him. “That’s already starting the day off wrong. The tone has been set. It’ll only go downhill from here, nothing good will come of today.”

“What if Hyung takes you to the arcade this afternoon?” Minho challenged.

“One good thing will come of today,” Jeongin corrected himself. “Can we get milkshakes? _Pleeeeeeeease?_ You owe me now!”

“I owe you nothing,” Minho argued. “I was just doing my duty as your hyung, you should be grateful to me for what you get. Do you want chocolate or vanilla?”

“Strawberry!” Jeongin cheered.

“Weird child,” Minho muttered. “Go get dressed and ready.”

“Thanks, Hyung!” Jeongin trilled, bouncing up from his seat and out of the room. Minho sighed and followed him out, muttering something about “the kid being too spoiled and one of these days he was going to stop being so nice to him.” He wasn’t fooling anyone. Once they left the kitchen, Chan stood and quickly gathered Jeongin’s bowl and washed it, wanting to erase the evidence before the other kids saw it and demanded equal treatment. They were always quick to whine about Chan and Minho “picking favourites” even though in actuality the instances of preferential treatment were evenly spread between all of them. He gave the bowl and spoon a final rinse and set them in the rack to dry, before taking a cloth to wipe off the droplets on the table, where he could just barely make out the sounds of the front door rattling, and Jeongin’s whiny “Hyung, how do you open the door?” He could just picture the self-satisfied smirk on Minho’s face. Sighing, he started puttering around the kitchen to start preparing brunch for those who remained at the dorm.

Chan had decided to ease Jeongin into the routine with a movie night. With eight boys and only one couch, cuddling was inevitable, so hopefully the youngest wouldn’t feel as self-conscious. He had sent a couple of the boys on a mission to collect all the pillows and blankets they could reasonably carry, but the rest were lounging around in the living room and arguing over which movie to watch. He could hear them very clearly from his vantage point in the kitchen where he was preparing snacks and drinks, down to the muffled smack and yelp that indicated that Seungmin had just been slapped, likely for trying to snatch the remote. Again. Shaking his head, he returned to the mission at hand. He wanted to touch base with Jeongin before they started, the boy had been antsy since dinner time.

“Innie,” he called, beckoning the maknae over from where he was sprawled out on the floor at Changbin’s feet. “Come help Hyung.” Jeongin groaned and slunk into the kitchen, then groaned again when Chan pulled the milk out of the fridge.

“I don’t want to,” Jeongin whined as Chan pulled out a mug. “It’s embarrassing!”

“The others won’t even notice unless you keep kicking up a fuss,” Chan pointed out. “Late-night tea dates aren’t exactly a rarity in this household, neither are cuddles.”

“It’s uncommon for me,” Jeongin retorted. It wasn’t. While he was perhaps not as likely as some of the others to turn into the human embodiment of an octopus, Jeongin was just as likely as any of them to be curled up next to someone. The only difference is that he was much more discreet in his search for contact then, say, Felix. He was more prone to subtle actions like resting his head on someone’s shoulder while he played on his phone, or grabbing onto the coat-sleeve of whoever he was walking with to reassure himself that he wouldn’t lose them in a crowd. Or plunking down heavily in someone’s lap just to hear them “Oof!” in pain and surprise before giggling and attempting to escape, only to end up pinned in the original victim’s lap and cuddled into submission as he loudly bemoaned the injustice of the situation.

“Besides, it’s not even going to work anyways.”

“Why do you say that?” Chan asked, sliding the ceramic mug of milk into the microwave and starting it.

“It just isn’t,” Jeongin said. Chan shot him an unimpressed look. Those were forbidden words in their dorm, because they were a cop-out. Chan was a big advocate for the mentality that ‘there’s a reason for every action taken, and if there isn’t a reason then the action is unreasonable.’ The kids knew that, and they knew he would never accept “this just is” or “this just isn’t” or anything similar as an argument or excuse, but for some reason they still tried to use them on him. It had never worked before and it wasn’t going to fly now. Unless Jeongin could come up with a way to convincingly articulate _why_ their current plan of action wouldn’t work, then Chan would maintain that there was still the potential for success, and given that the maknae was crossing his arms petulantly and staring at the floor, Chan could safely assume that that was the case.

“Do you want sugar or honey, Innie?” He asked, opening the cupboard.

“I don’t need it,” Jeongin said stubbornly. Chan shrugged and pulled the sugar out anyways. The microwave beeped, and Chan pulled the milk out, testing the temperature and stirring it with a spoon to make sure the heat was evenly distributed. He handed the mug to the maknae.

“Take a sip,” he said. Jeongin grumbled, but obeyed. He pulled a face as soon as the milk touched his tongue.

“That’s gross,” he whined. “Why does warm milk taste so much worse than cold milk?” Chan rolled his eyes and took back the mug, dumping the heaping spoon of sugar he had already prepared in and stirring it around. It melted and left delicate pattern of sugary brown swirls on the surface. It honestly looked really appealing, and smelled just as good. He was tempted to make one for himself as well.

“This just looks like milk tea,” Chan pointed out, handing Jeongin back the mug. “How is this any different from when we go out for boba? All that’s missing is the tapioca.” Jeongin shrugged and took another reluctant sip. Chan knew he had won the argument when Jeongin didn’t say anything, just shuffled out to the living room where the others were waiting. Minho popped in a minute later.

“He didn’t even help you with the snacks,” the dancer observed, amused smirk evident on his face. Chan rolled his eyes fondly.

“It’s okay, I didn’t actually need help,” he said, setting out the hot chocolate powder and assorted teas so the others could serve themselves drinks. “Everything’s pretty much done.” He handed one of the two large bowls of popcorn to Minho, who immediately took a handful and shoved it in his mouth.

“How’s Innie doing?” Minho asked knowingly through his mouthful of kernels.

“He fussed a little bit but he’ll be fine,” Chan shrugged. “I think he’s just embarrassed and doesn’t want to be babied.”

“We baby him all the time,” Minho said. Chan laughed. It was true, after all.

“He just wants to keep up with the others,” he said. “You know he gets sensitive when he feels like they’ll leave him behind because he’s younger. It’s a natural reaction for the youngest to have.” Minho shrugged and took the bowl out to the living room. Chan grabbed the other bowl and the packets of jelly candies and followed.

“Water’s hot,” he told the boys. “Go grab your drinks.” The boys all scrambled up and scurried to the kitchen, leaving Chan, Jeongin and Minho in the room. Chan dibs’d the corner of the couch with the footrest and tugged Jeongin down next to him. Jeongin huffed into his drink.

“How’s your milk tea?” Chan asked. Hopefully reinforcing that the beverage in the maknae’s hand was perfectly normal for an adult to drink would help him to feel less self-conscious about it.

“Good,” Jeongin said sheepishly. He followed it up with a hesitant “Thanks, Hyung.” Chan just smiled and put his arm around the boy, turning to make conversation with Minho. Soon enough, all the boys were back in the room and either squeezed on the couch or sprawled out on the floor amidst the sea of pillows and blankets. Changbin hit play on the cued up movie (a light-hearted comedy, Chan was pleased to see) and they all settled down. Halfway through the movie, Jeongin was still fidgeting with his now-empty mug. Chan shook his head internally and took the cup from the maknae’s hand, setting it off to the side.

“It’s just a movie night, Innie,” he whispered so only the maknae could hear him. “Get out of your head. You’re stressing yourself out.” Jeongin huffed audibly, causing Hyunjin and Seungmin, who were sat closest to them, to glance over. Jeongin blushed and turned away from them, hiding his face in Chan’s shoulder. Chan rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to keep watching, or do you want to go to bed?” He asked in the maknae’s ear. If the boy’s embarrassment got to him it would stress him out more that would be _entirely_ counterproductive. If that was going to be the case, it was better to put the maknae out of his self-imposed misery so he’d be able to sleep.

“Watch,” Jeongin responded, face still smushed against Chan’s arm.

“Then stop worrying so much,” Chan said gently. Jeongin nodded, seemingly understanding the ultimatum given him and curled into Chan’s side. The movie ended just under an hour later, and the boys were all shooed off towards bed, bemoaning all the way what they were being asked to do. Felix had somehow coerced Changbin into carrying him off to their room, and Hyunjin and Han were whining loudly to Minho about how they were too tired to move so “why can’t we just sleep out here, Hyung?” Chan snorted. _And Innie was worried about being seen as the childish one._ Knowing that he had at _least_ seven minutes until Minho convinced Han to get up and move to his bed, Chan took advantage of that time of privacy to get Jeongin to brush his teeth and then tugged him off to the boys’ shared room. The maknae was definitely sleepy, and wasn’t buzzing with nearly as much nervous energy as he had been earlier, so Chan was calling that a win. Jeongin was ready for bed within minutes and curled up under his blankets. Chan bid him goodnight, reassuring him that even if he walked, nothing would happen to him and nothing would change between them, before kissing him on the head and closing the door behind him.

The next few days showed marginal improvement in the boy’s sleep schedule. Jisung had reported that there had been a few instances where Jeongin was restless, and would sit up and lie down repeatedly in the middle of the night, but it seemed he had at least settled back down a little bit. It wasn’t until the sixth night that Jeongin walked again. It had been Han who had noticed first, having not quite fallen asleep himself when Jeongin got out of bed. Chan had awoken to the sounds of Han giggling uncontrollably in the hallway as he filmed Jeongin trying to open the door, disgruntled look on his face as he struggled to get around the plastic mechanism on the door handle. _Thank god they had installed that child lock._ Hitting the back of Han’s head, Chan had started forward to usher the maknae back to bed. He got him as far as the hallway before Jeongin had tried to plunk himself down in the middle of the floor.

“Whoa, Buddy,” Chan said urgently, lunging forward to catch the maknae before he hit the the ground. “Watcha doing?”

“Don’ wanna go to bed,” Jeongin slurred, collapsing like deadweight in Chan’s arms. Chan readjusted his grip and turned to glare at Jisung, who was still filming.

“Stop filming and make yourself useful,” he scolded. Jisung rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone, and Chan turned back to Jeongin.

“Why don’t you want to go to bed, Innie?” He asked.

“Wan’ TV. No ‘Yungs. Innie’s turn,” came the response. Chan blinked.

“He wants to watch TV now because he won’t have to fight anyone over what to watch,” Jisung translated helpfully.

“Got that, thanks,” Chan said wryly, encouraging Jeongin to stand back on his own two feet. “But it’s four in the morning. I want to be in bed. _You_ should want to be in bed.”

“Nah,” Jisung said casually. “This is more fun. Go back to bed, Hyung, I’ll stay up with Innie.”

“Absolutely not,” Chan said. “You’re _both_ going back to bed.” With great effort on his part (between Jeongin’s refusal to carry his own weight and Jisung trying to sneak back to the living room every time he glanced away it felt like the ten metres to the end of the hall where the boy’s bedroom had stretched to about a mile), he managed to corral the two back to their room. After tucking the boys back in and shutting their bedroom door tightly, he settled down on the couch for a few minutes just to make sure they didn’t try to sneak back out again. Not that Jeongin could help it, really, but Chan wouldn’t put it past Jisung to plant an idea into Jeongin’s subconscious that would cause way too much disturbance at four in the morning and give him a massive headache. There were a few muffled thuds and quiet giggles that came from down the hall and he _almost_ went to go check on them, but then they seemed to quiet down. After giving it another ten minutes or so just to make _absolutely certain_ that they wouldn’t try anything, he headed back to bed to try and catch more sleep.

When he put in his first appearance in the kitchen the next morning, it was to roaring laughter and a maknae on the verge of tears a bunch of the boys hovered around Jisung’s phone to watch the videos of the previous nights escapades. Chan swooped in and deftly plucked the phone out of Jisung’s hands, to vocal protests, and redirected the boys’ attention to their abandoned breakfast, before wrapping Jeongin in a back hug and whispering a discreet “Are you okay?” In the boy’s ear. Jeongin nodded weakly, but made no effort to finish his breakfast, simply pushing it around on his plate. Chan sighed internally and reminded himself to check on the boy again later. He didn’t get a chance to talk to the him alone until after dance practice that evening, when he enlisted the maknae’s help in putting away the leftovers and doing the dishes after their (very late) dinner. They had worked in silence for a while until Chan spoke up.

“Innie,” He asked gently. “You know none of us think any less of you for sleepwalking, right?” Jeongin didn’t answer, just opened a cupboard and started stacking glasses. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the shelf and it made Chan a little nervous because he was handling _glass,_ but didn’t want to comment on that.

“I hate it,” he admitted after a while. “It’s so _stupid,_ because I can’t help it, but it’s so _embarrassing!”_

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed, Innie,” Chan said. “You’re not the only one with weird sleep habits.” It was true. Between their two sleep-talkers, three chronic sleep-cuddlers, two people who snored like a bear and a victim of the occasional bout of sleep-paralysis, there was _no shortage_ of absurd sleep-time scenarios in their dorm.

“Nobody else’s leads them to be treated like a child, though,” Jeongin argued.

“We can’t get rid of the child lock, In,” Chan said gently. “It’s not safe.”

“We could still stop the rest of it then” Jeongin said hopefully. Chan frowned at that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “If it helps you we should keep doing it.”

“It’s _not_ helping,” Jeongin argued. “I sleepwalked last night, didn’t I?”

“That was only one night this week, Innie,” Chan reasoned. “One out of six.”

“So what? It still didn’t work!” Jeongin snapped. Chan sent him a warning look, and he slumped his shoulders, jutting out his lip.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… I don’t want to be treated like a kid _.”_

“Having a warm drink to calm down before bed is a perfectly normal adult thing to do,” Chan reminded him gently. “And the only one who thinks that cuddle sessions before bed are childish is you.” Jeongin didn’t respond.

“Why don’t we try for a few more nights,” Chan suggested gently. “Just a few more nights and if you still think it isn’t working we’ll try to come up with a Plan B, okay?” Jeongin nodded reluctantly, and Chan smiled gently at him.

“Can you get the milk out?” He asked the maknae. Jeongin shuffled off to the fridge to do as he was asked.

“Is it a brown sugar kind of night or a honey kind of night?”

“Sugar,” Jeongin said, his head still inside the fridge. Chan nodded and retrieved the sugar, before pulling a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. He took the milk from Jeongin and poured a generous amount into both mugs, before sticking the first of the two in the microwave. Felix wandered in a moment later, engulfed in flannel pyjama pants and one of Chan’s black hoodies. The younger Aussie was still always cold, despite having lived in Korea for years now and having had plenty of time to adapt to the change in climate. He had taken off his makeup from the day leaving his freckles on full display, and he looked very sleepy.

“Watcha making?” The boy yawned, shuffling over to where Chan had swapped out the mugs in the microwave and started mixing in the sugar. He wrapped his arms around Chan’s ribs and engulfed him in a back hug, burying his face in his shoulder blade.

“Milk tea,” Chan informed him, reaching back at an awkward angle to pet his head before dropping the spoon back into Jeongin’s mug and holding it out to the youngest.

“How’s the sugar level?” He asked. Jeongin took a sip.

“Little more?” Jeongin asked, blinking sweetly up at Chan. Chan sniffed fondly and dumped a small spoonful into the mug for Jeongin to mix in.

“Wait, why does Innie get milk tea?” Felix pouted. “I want milk tea! Hyuuuuuuung!” Chan rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll make extra for you. Calm down, Lixie.” Felix let out a happy little hum, then sidled up next to Jeongin to steal a sip.

“Wait for your own,” Jeongin groused, hugging his mug to his chest. Chan snorted. For someone who was so adamant not ten minutes ago that he didn’t want this kind of treatment anymore he was very protective of it. He pulled down another mug and filled it with milk and placed it in the microwave, mixing the recently heated one and handing it off to Felix. Once all three mugs had been prepared, Chan ushered them off to the living room, turning on some random music show rerun on TV. He sat down in the corner of the couch and drew the maknae closer to him. Felix, like the cat he was, immediately curled up next to the closest source of body heat (Jeongin) and started nuzzling his shoulder, sipping blissfully at his drink. He threw his legs over both their laps, effectively pinning all of them, and the three of them chatted idly about their days over the sound of the commercial break. Their chatter eventually petered out into silence, and Chan tried to shimmy his phone out of his pocket without jostling Felix to check the notification that had just come in. He read the incoming work email and started scrolling through his files to find the one that was being requested of him, sending it off before getting lost in the rabbit hole that was Twitter.

It registered in the back of his mind some time later that he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from either of the younger boys in a while. He glanced up at them, and couldn’t help the fond coo that escaped his lips. Jeongin had slumped over against Chan’s side and was fast asleep, mouth hanging open slightly and mug still clutched tightly in his grip. But beside him, dozing peacefully on the maknae’s shoulder (and still across both their laps) was Felix, his empty mug long since set aside so he could cling to Jeongin with two hands instead of one. Chan took a quick photo of the pair before shooting off a text to Minho, asking for help in getting the two youngest to bed.

Minho emerged thirty seconds later, glasses perched on his nose and hair ruffled from where it had been recently dried. His face melted into the softest look upon seeing the maknaes, and he snapped a couple photos for himself before stooping down to disentangle Felix and scoop him into his arms. Felix whined sleepily at the loss of heat, scrunching up his freckled nose before blinking his eyes open in confusion. Minho carried him off to bed, murmuring something to him as they went and leaving Chan with the maknae. Smiling to himself, Chan gently pried the mug from Jeongin’s fingers, setting it off to the side before he picked the boy up koala-style and carried him off to bed, planting a kiss on his forehead as he tucked him in. Jeongin didn’t even stir. After crossing the room to kiss Jisung’s forehead and remind him not to stay up too late, he left the pair alone, hoping that the look of sheer tranquility on the youngest’s face foreshadowed his first truly restful sleep in a long time.

The next morning, Chan was woken up by the maknae bounding into his room, the sunniest of smiles on his face, followed by a slightly-less-energetic-but-still-peppy Jisung. They both climbed up into his bunk with him, chatting animatedly as they crawled under his covers with him.

“Morning, Hyung!” Jeongin sang, cuddling up to him.

“Morning, Innie,” Chan said fondly. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Really well,” Jeongin said. Chan was so glad to hear that.

“He didn’t even _move_ last night, Hyung,” Jisung reported.

“Oh?” Chan asked, quirking his eyebrow. “And you would know this because…?” Jisung rolled his eyes and brushed him off flippantly.

“I slept, don’t worry,” he said airily.

“Yeah, and that’s why you yawned three times in the course of that sentence,” Chan retorted. “How much sleep?”

“Couple hours?” Jisung said vaguely. Chan snorted.

“Go back to sleep, Sung. You don’t have to be up for… another hour or so.” He turned to the maknae and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m glad you slept well, Innie,” he said fondly. Jeongin beamed at him and curled into his side.

“Thanks for helping me last night,” he said shyly. “I think… I think it’s okay to keep going with the milk tea.” Chan smiled, relieved. He had been hoping for this outcome. God bless Felix’s impeccable timing and insatiable desire for cuddles.

“Of course, Innie,” he said, dropping a peck on the boy’s temple. “We’re always happy to help you.” Jeongin hummed, and Chan ruffled his hair.

“Why don’t we go out to the living room and let Hannie sleep,” he suggested, glancing over his to his other side where Jisung had already dozed off in his bed, curling into his pillow. Jeongin nodded and clambered down from the ladder, and Chan followed the maknae out of the room.

“Morning Innie, morning Hyung,” Minho called from the kitchen. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” Jeongin said happily, perching himself on the countertop to watch Minho work at cutting up the fruit to go with breakfast. Chan swooped in and plucked him off (his fingers were resting _way_ too close to the sharp knife for Chan to feel safe) and deposited him on the opposite side of the kitchen instead. Jeongin swung his legs contentedly.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Minho observed, sliding the freshly-cut fruit onto a plate. Jeongin blushed and smiled shyly, and Minho laughed and crossed the room to pop a melon cube in his mouth.

“Cute,” he cooed. “Help Hyung set the table.” Jeongin hopped up to do as he was told, and Chan and Minho shared a relieved look. _Finally, they had their smiley Jeongin back._ It might even be time to take the child lock off the front door, Chan mused. They could always put it back when things got stressful again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus end the midnight misadventures of Yang Jeongin. Mystery solved. This chapter wasn't originally supposed to be this long but meh, what can you do lol? Hope y'all enjoyed! As always, feel free to interact via comments, I love making new friends on the internet! <3


	20. You’re My Responsibility, A-Parent-Ly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Aussies run errands, and the remaining kids give Minho a really, REALLY big headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains spanking
> 
> Everybody say thank-you to JustGayAndTired for their suggestion! They wanted to see how Minho and Changbin hold down the fort when Chan's not home and this is what was born from it. As always, if you have any head cannons or plot suggestions feel free to comment, I can't promise anything but you never know what could come up!

It was Wednesday night when Chan pulled Minho into the laundry room, and he was immediately filled with trepidation. When Chan called for a Laundry Room Rendezvous (A laundry-vous, if you will), it usually meant that something was up with one or more of the younger boys- the laundry room only location in the entire dorm where they could reliably have a private and uninterrupted grown-up Hyung Conversation. (Most of the boys hated chores with a passion so they weren’t likely to be interrupted, and the hum of both the washing machine and boiler drowned out their conversation to any eavesdroppers).

“What is it?” He asked as the leader closed the door behind them.

“I have to take Felix to the consulate and then to the immigration office tomorrow,” Chan informed him. Minho blinked. _Was that all?_

“Felix is a big boy,” he told the eldest. “He won’t get lost and stranded if you let him go alone anymore.”

“No, no, I have to go too,” Chan sighed. “I need to renew my ARC as well, it makes sense for us to go together.”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?” Minho frowned.

“Well... Tomorrow’s our day off,” Chan said.

“Yeah? And?”

“And all the boys will be home...”

“Yeah? And?”

Chan huffed, running his hand through his hair. “It’s just... What are your plans tomorrow?” He asked. “Because none of the other boys have firm plans that I know of, which means they’re all going to be home and getting into trouble.”

 _Ah_. So _that’s_ what was eating away at him. Minho snorted. Chan had an endearing habit of fussing over them all like a parent leaving their kids home alone and Minho teased him mercilessly for it when he went all “Behave for your brother, he’ll tell me when I get home tonight if you didn’t.” Minho might not have any siblings, but he’d been left under the care of his friends’ siblings enough growing up that he had an idea of how that went.

Chan’s fretting was totally unnecessary; Minho knew how to handle the younger boys. Chan may have the whole disappointed dad act down when the boys misbehaved (and _damn did he_ _ever_ , Minho had been on the receiving end more than he’d like to admit), but Minho could hold his own.

“You literally leave them alone all the time because you’re a compulsive overworker who can’t say no to new opportunities,” he reminded the leader. “How is this any different?” Chan winced.

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But I just have a bad feeling about tomorrow. They’ve been too well-behaved this week, it can’t last forever. And if I’m not here...”

“Hyung, _relax_ ,” Minho placated. “The boys will be fine and even if they’re not, I’ll be here to get it back under control. Plus Changbin will be home too.”

“Is that a help or a hinderance?” Chan groaned. He had a fair point. Changbin was usually a bit more of a pushover when he was left to “babysit” (the three of them _loved_ to call it ‘babysitting’ whenever Chan and Minho were both out and Changbin just _happened_ to be the only hyung home, solely because it annoyed the maknae line so much because they insisted that they were “-Not kids, Hyung! We don’t need adult supervision!” “Yeah and even if we did, Changbin’s not actually a real adult- _Ow!”_ ). The main rapper was more likely to join in on whatever shenanigans were occurring, or film them for blackmail material, only to get an earful from Chan or Minho when they returned. Most often Chan.

“You make a good point,” Minho conceded. “But still, we’ll be fine. I’ll be home all day but even if I wasn’t, it’s not like the boys would burn down the building or anything.” Chan opened his mouth to argue, and Minho rolled his eyes.

“That was one time, and a brief lapse in coordination. Plus we don’t have any scented candles to drop at the moment. Hide the lighter if you’re so worried, but the boys will be fine.” Chan slumped in defeat.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s fine. Everything will be fine. They’re capable of being responsible members of society.” He was obviously saying that for his own benefit, not Minho’s because if anything it was setting Minho more on-edge. Chan had a sort of sixth sense about these things after all, and if his gut was telling them that there would be mischief then there probably would be. Regardless, he had full faith in himself and Changbin that they could take it.

“Hyung,” he said. “We’ll be okay. I can handle the boys. If they misbehave I’ll kick their asses and if they get themselves hurt I know first aid. We’ll be _fine_.” Chan released a slow breath of air.

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks, Minho. I’m sorry if it makes you feel like you’re stuck all day, if you had other plans don’t cancel them or anything...”

“Are you kidding?” Minho snorted. “My plans tomorrow take me no further than the fridge.” Chan visibly relaxed.

“Okay,” he said again. “Thank you.” 

Minho knew that Chan’s Hyung-Intuition (TM) was usually spot on, and so had spent his time in the shower the next morning bracing for... whatever it was that the kids would end up doing, to the best of his ability. He couldn’t possibly have guessed, however, that the shenanigans would start before he had even finished that morning’s second coffee. (Well, “morning” was a loose term. It was now half past twelve.)

“InJin are up to something,” Changbin informed him casually as he yanked open the fridge. Minho frowned.

“What kind of ‘something’ are they up to?” He asked. Changbin shrugged.

“I dunno what but they looked pretty suspicious skulking around by the front door.” Minho groaned.

“Why didn’t you do something about it then?” He demanded. Changbin shrugged.

“You’re the mom,” he said flippantly.

“And you’re supposed to be the responsible Hyung,” Minho pointed out. He didn’t even try to refute the ‘mom’ thing, it wasn’t worth it. The kids never budged anyways. “I know Chan pulled you aside yesterday.”

“This _is_ being responsible,” Changbin retorted. “I’m telling Mom. That’s what all good oldest children do.” The startled yelp he let out as Minho’s projectile chopstick hit the back of his head was _so_ _satisfying_. Setting his coffee aside with a promise to return to it as soon as he could, Minho left to shut down the shenanigans.

“Where are you going?” He asked upon finding the younger two exactly where Changbin had said they were, shoes and jackets on and obviously on their way out the door.

“Why does it matter?” Hyunjin huffed as Minho leaned against the doorframe to stare them down.

“Because it’s you two,” Minho said matter-of-factly. “So where are you going?”

“We’re just going out for a bit,” Hyunjin said vaguely. Minho took note of how quiet Jeongin was being, and that cemented in his mind that Changbin had been right, and that letting the two do as they pleased in this scenario would be a _singularly_ _bad idea_.

“Not if you don’t tell me where you’re going, you’re not,” he said, quirking his eyebrow.

“We’re just gonna go to Itaewon for a bit,” Hyunjin pouted. Minho pinned him with a deadpan look. At least he knew why they were trying to hide their destination from him now.

“No you’re not,” he said. The last time the two of them had gone to Itaewon alone together, they had wound up being stalked by a sasaeng who followed them home, which they didn’t realize until she tried to get in the elevator with them at the dorm. Not to mention that Itaewon was where both of them had almost been kidnapped by cults on two separate occasions. Neither of them had the words ‘Stranger Danger’ in their vocabularies, and this character deficiency didn’t just double when they were together, it increased _exponentially_. Itaewon was now off-limits to the pair unless there was someone else, _anyone else_ who went with them to counterbalance their naïveté and streak of bad luck. Chan had said so, Minho had said so, even their _manager_ had said that the two of them weren’t to go to Itaewon alone. And it wasn’t like they had forgotten that, otherwise they wouldn’t have been skulking around.

“Hyung, come on!” Hyunjin whined. “That’s a stupid rule!”

“It’s not,” Minho stated. “It’s for your own safety. The level of self-preservation the two of you don’t have is astounding. You’re not going to Itaewon alone. And drop that scowl before I smack it off you, Hwang Hyunjin.” Hyunjin opened his mouth to retort, but Minho was saved from having to chastise the boy by Jeongin tugging on his tallest Hyung’s sleeve with a quiet “It’s not worth it, Hyung.” Minho nodded to himself in satisfaction as the boys kicked off their shoes and shuffled back out of the entryway. He went back to his coffee, ignoring the surly look Hyunjin was still shooting at him.

He felt much more awake and ready to face the day when his second cup had been depleted, his mug washed and his breakfast finished. _Almost_ awake enough to go and do the proper hyungly thing and break up the argument that Changbin and Jisung seemed to be having in the next room. Almost.

“-STOP trying to ruin my fun-“

“You wouldn’t let me play with you! Play with me, I’m _bored_ ~“

“-Hyung said you had to listen to me!”

“C’mon, I just wanted to play with you! Lino-Ring, tell Changbin he has to let me play KartRider with him!“ Minho eyed the empty coffee pot longingly. He wanted a third cup.

“You two are seriously fighting over KartRider?” He called out of the kitchen tiredly.

“Yes!”

“Are you five?” He snorted derisively. “You both have the app on your phones, just play on your own. Nobody said you had to play together.”

 _“No!”_ Jisung whined at the same time Changbin exclaimed a “That’s what **_I_** said! I’m playing with my 99-Line friends, go play with your own.”

“Hyung, let me play with your friends!” Jisung whined. And then they were back to square one and Minho wanted to murder them both.

“Hyung, Innie and I are gonna go to the convenience store,” Hyunjin called over the chaos. At least, he _thought_ he heard Hyunjin call over the chaos, but he couldn’t be quite sure.

“What?” He called after their already-retreating forms.

“CONVENIENCE STORE!” Hyunjin yelled over his shoulder.

“OKAY!” He yelled back. “DON’T MAKE STUPID CHOICES!” He didn’t get an answer, but that was fine. He slid the kitchen doors closed to block out the calamity and started to brew another pot of coffee. He needed it today. The door slammed open a minute or two later and Jisung darted behind him, pulling him backwards until they hit a wall. Changbin came running in a moment later and he was _mad_. Well, that explained why Jisung was cowering behind him in the corner, at least.

“Han Jisung get back here,” he rapper growled, lunging around Minho at Jisung.

Minho groaned.

“What did you do?” He demanded, looking over his shoulder.

“He called me in the middle of my race!” Changbin cried. “Twice!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” Minho muttered. “ _Really?_ _That’s_ what you’re disturbing the peace for?”

“Hyung, tell him to stop being such a brat!” Changbin demanded.

“Stop being such a brat,” Minho parroted blandly over his shoulder. “Happy? Good. Now get out and don’t murder each other, I don’t have enough coffee in my system to deal with you.” Changbin grumbled something about blocking Jisung’s number on his way out.

Once his third coffee of the day was done and his mug re-washed, he decided to make the most of his day in and settled down to catch up on the latest episodes of his drama that he had missed. Halfway through his second episode he realized that he hadn’t remembered to grab snacks for his Netflix binge and that just wouldn’t do. Grumbling at his own stupidity, he hauled himself back into the kitchen and started rifling through their snack cupboard, which was... severely depleted. They had _no good snacks_. None! Somebody had even depleted his personal stash of honey twists that he kept hidden in the back of the cupboard.

Sighing to himself, he shot a text to both Jeongin and Hyunjin asking them to pick some more of his precious chips up while they were at the store anyways, then set down his phone and hit play on his episode to pass the time. Watching drama wasn’t the same without snacks, but he supposed it was better than nothing.

When he still hadn’t heard back from either of boy ten minutes later, he rolled his eyes and called Hyunjin’s phone, intending to tell the boys to check their texts. His call went to voicemail. Frowning to himself, he tried Jeongin’s phone. The call was declined instantly. _That was unusual_.

He called them both back, only to receive the same treatment so he sent them both another text to check that they were okay. Sighing in frustration at the lack of response, he went to close out the app, then paused and glanced at the time stamp of his original text. Surely, he had read that wrong. He peered at the little grey numbers. No, there it was. Clear as day. _Today 2:57 PM_ , it read. They had been gone for two hours.

The local convenience store was very well-stocked, but it was not well-stocked enough to take two whole hours to peruse. _Shit_. What if something had happened to them? With less irritation and more urgency, he tried to call them again. And again. Still no answer. Sighing to himself, he got up off the couch. He found the three remaining members in his room, all heavily invested in a very arbitrary yet intense debate about the wetness of water.

“Water is wet. Have either of you seen or heard from Hyunjin or the maknae? They said they were going to the convenience store, like, two hours ago and they’re still not back,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“What?!” Seungmin squawked. “It is not!” He was missing the important part of Minho’s statement, evidently.

“Jinnie and the maknae?” He prompted impatiently. “Anyone seen or heard from them?”

“Nope, sorry,” Changbin and Jisung responded perfectly in tandem. _Creepy_. He turned to Seungmin, who was hanging over the railing of his top bunk.

“How about you?” He demanded.

“No, sorry Hyung,” the younger said almost too casually. Minho narrowed his eyes, _hoping_ that the second maknae was lying to him.

“You haven’t heard _anything_ from them? They didn’t say anything about their afternoon plans?” He pressed.

“Nothing,” Seungmin affirmed. Minho studied the boy’s face for any tells. He still didn’t quite believe what he was hearing (or maybe he just didn’t want to believe it), but the younger just blinked down at him innocently enough that Minho couldn’t justifiably call him out for lying. 

“Shit. Okay,” he sighed. “But if you hear from either of them tell me, okay?” They all nodded in agreement, and he left them to pace the kitchen and try the two missing members’ phones again. And again.

He was starting to get stressed. They had now missed upwards of seven calls each from him. If they weren’t in mortal peril he was going to do the deed himself for the disrespect and undue stress, _honestly_. He _prayed_ that that’s all it was, and that they weren’t bleeding out in some back alley, or stuffed in the trunk of a sasaeng’s van or locked up in a holding cell. Sighing to himself, he made up his mind to make the trek out to the convenience store himself to see if there was any funny business or if he should be calling the cops and Chan. He headed back to his room to inform the others of his plan and tell them to stay home and out of trouble, and to tell Changbin to exile the truants to one of their rooms should they arrive home before him. When he opened the bedroom door, however, Changbin and Jisung were no longer in there. Only Seungmin was there, and he was pacing the room and talking on his phone.

“Would you idiots hurry up?” The boy asked testily. “You’re gonna give yourselves away, Hyung’s already asking about you-“

“Hi Minnie,” Minho smiled, sauntering into the room.

“Hi Hyung,” Seungmin said with faux-nonchalance. Minho just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. _Of course_ Seungmin would still try to play innocent.

“I assume that’s Jinnie and Innie on the phone?” He inquired drily.

“No,” Seungmin said quickly. This time Minho _did_ roll his eyes.

“Give me the phone,” he demanded, holding out his hand impatiently. Seungmin shook his head and waved him off. _Rude_.

“ ** _Give me the phone, Seungmin,_** ” Minho growled, lunging forward and ripped it away from Seungmin’s ear, ignoring Seungmin’s startled yelp. A quick glance at the caller ID showed it to be Jeongin’s phone.

“Yang Jeongin,” he said, saccharinely sweet as he shoved off Seungmin’s grabby hands. “Why the hell didn’t you answer my calls?”

“ _Hyung!_ ” He came Jeongin’s startled squeak. “ _I- Um- My phone died?_ ”

“Your phone died,” Minho deadpanned. Seungmin facepalmed beside him, finally giving up the fight.

_“Yeah.”_

“You mean the phone you’re currently talking to me on?”

“ _...Oh_ ,” Jeongin said meekly.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Minho said.

 _“I just charged it?”_ Jeongin tried half heartedly, but even through the phone Minho could hear that he had admitted defeat to himself.

“Sure you did,” he said. “Put the phone on speaker.” A bout of static came through the speaker, followed by a large _crack!_ and a frantic “ _Shit!_ ” in the distance, followed by more static, and then finally-

“ _Sorry Hyung, I dropped my phone._ ”Minho had figured as much.

“Are you on speaker now?” He asked.

“ _Yeah_ ,” came the response.

“Good. Hwang Hyunjin,” Minho started.

“ _Yes, Hyung?_ ” Came Hyunjin’s apprehensive voice through the speakers.

“How was the convenience store?”

“ _Oh! Good_ ,” Hyunjin said. Minho could hear the thinly veiled hope in the younger dancer’s voice, evidently thinking they had somehow (miraculously) gotten away with their lie. _As if_.

“Well that’s good to hear. You two are on your way home now, right?”

“ _Not yet but we’ll come home soon. We just need to stop and_ -“

“No, you’ll come home now so I can kick your asses for ignoring my calls,” Minho said firmly. “The convenience store is what, eight minutes from home?” There was a gaping silence on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, about that far,” Minho answered his own question pensively. “Five if you make use of those freaky long legs of yours. I’ll see you in eight minutes, then, Hyunjin-ah, I.N.-ah.” And with that, he hung up Seungmin’s phone. After setting a timer on his own phone to have a record of how long the boys took to get home, he rounded on Seungmin.

“No idea where they went, huh?” He asked flatly. Seungmin winced.

“Technically I didn’t know where they went,” he said weakly. “I just knew that it wasn’t where they told you they were going. Can I have my phone back, please?”

“What, this phone?” Minho asked innocently, waving the younger vocalist’s phone in the air. “Why don’t you walk over here and get it off me yourself?” Seungmin huffed.

“ _Hyung!_ ” He whined. “Give it back!”

“Come and get it if you want it so bad.” Seungmin groaned and dove for his phone, but Minho snatched it back at the last second.

“Hyung, come on!” The boy pleaded. “I didn’t do anything!”

“And that’s exactly the problem! Did you tell me what the others were doing?” Minho asked, still taunting him with the phone. Seungmin took another dive and missed.

“No,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“Then you were an accomplice,” Minho said. “And you _lied to me_. I asked you if you knew where the boys were and you told me no.”

“And technically I didn’t,” Seungmin said quickly. Always trying to exploit the loopholes.

“You knew I was looking for them and deliberately withheld information that you should have shared,” Minho said sharply.

“But snitches get stitches, Hyung!” Seungmin cried.

“And so do lying little bitches,” Minho retorted.

“I am _not_ a lying little bitch!” Seungmin protested indignantly.

“Right, because you were _so_ honest about who you were on the phone with,” Minho said sarcastically. “Actually, maybe I should keep the phone, since Innie and Jinnie evidently won’t pick up calls from me.”

“ _No!_ ” Seungmin yelped, lunging once more. Minho side-stepped him and caught him around his waist, dragging him over to his bunk and tipping him over his lap.

“You _do not_ lie to your Hyung,” he scolded. “Especially about your members and their safety.”

After a minute or two he tugged a quite kowtowed and sulky Seungmin up to sit on the bed next to him.

“What do you say?” He prompted, nudging the younger singer with his elbow.

“Sorry, Hyung,” the younger muttered, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment.

“For what?”

“Lying to you.” Seungmin scrunched his nose up as if the words coming out of his mouth tasted foul. He was probably just bitter that his loophole hadn’t worked.

“Good Minnie,” Minho cooed, tickling him under the chin. The young singer whined and wrapped his arms around himself, but leaned into Minho’s side just the same. He hadn’t even shed a tear throughout the ordeal but was sporting a massive pout, and Minho couldn’t help but tut fondly at him.

“I hate it when you do that,” Seungmin grumped, shifting in his seat.

“Do what?” Minho asked, amused.

“Go full Parent Mode,” Seungmin pouted. “You’re more fun as a big brother.” Minho snorted.

“Then don’t do shit to get yourself in trouble,” he retorted. “It’s not fun for me either, Kid.” It was true. He much preferred wrestling the kids into submission, and only stepped up to play the real authority figure when he _absolutely_ needed to. Seungmin huffed.

“But I _didn’t!_ ” He whined. Minho quirked his eyebrow incredulously.

“Round two, then?” He threatened, reaching towards the boy’s arm. Seungmin’s eyes bugged out as he realized that he had accidentally implied that he hadn’t learned his lesson.

“I mean I _did_ ,” he quickly amended, batting Minho’s hand away. “But it was a more passive thing, it’s not like I actually snuck out _with_ them, you didn’t have to take it _that far_ -“

“You’re preposterous,” Minho snorted. “That was _hardly_ far, I barely touched you. You’re not even crying.”

“You still suck,” Seungmin muttered, rubbing his cheek on Minho’s shoulder. “I like Channie-Hyung better, he’s not mean to me.” Minho rolled his eyes and fished Seungmin’s phone out of his hoodie pocket, offering it to the younger. He hadn’t intended to actually confiscate it, he had just been using it as bait anyways.

“Here,” he said. “Does that make up for it?” Seungmin hummed in satisfaction. Minho pulled out his own phone and checked the timer. The eight minutes had past and then some. Seungmin peered over his shoulder at the phone with curiosity, then cackled.

“You’re timing them?” He asked gleefully. He had bounced back fast. “That’s so mean!” Minho smirked. At least someone appreciated his genius.

“If they can have their fun then I can have mine,” he shrugged.

“They’re such idiots,” Seungmin giggled. “I don’t know how they thought they’d be able to get away with this.”

“Me neither,” Minho snorted. “You really don’t know where they went?”

“I don’t, _honest_ ,” Seungmin insisted. “They were gonna tell me but I didn’t wanna hear because then I’d be implicated in their crimes.”

“And look how well that worked out for you,” Minho said drily. “You could have at least let them tell you so I’d know for sure where they are right now.” Seungmin blushed.

“Shut up,” he muttered. Minho chuckled and ruffled the boy’s bangs.

“You’re cute,” he cooed, before glancing down at his phone to check the timer again. It was now at fifteen minutes and forty seconds, almost double the amount of time it would have taken the other two to arrive home if they had been where they said they were going. Minho was willing to put big money on his hunch that they had, in fact, gone to Itaewon.

“Do me a favour?” He asked (told) Seungmin, tugging him up off the bed.

“What?” Seungmin asked curiously as Minho ushered him out of their room and into the hallway.

“Sit down _right_ -“ He pushed Seungmin down to sit on the little step in the doorway to their entryway. “- _Here_ until Hyunnie and Yennie get home and let me know as soon as they start to type in the passcode.”

“What? _Why?_ ” Seungmin whined.

“Because I want to be there when they arrive but I also want a snack,” Minho answered. Technically this would be lunch for him but he didn’t tell Seungmin that. He and Chan tried to get the kids to form healthy habits including a regular meal schedule whenever possible, and far be it from him to undermine their good work by demonstrating the opposite. “And you were useless to me before when I was trying to locate them so you can make it up to me by being useful to me now.”

“I was useful,” Seungmin argued. “I gave you my phone to talk to them.”

“I _took_ your phone to talk to them,” Minho retorted. Seungmin huffed.

“I don’t _wanna_ sit here,” he whined. “I’m hungry and and the floor’s too hard and I’ll be bored!”

“Tough,” Minho said. “Because you’re gonna. Now sit quietly and be ready to snitch like you _should_ have done earlier and be happy that I gave you back your phone to keep you entertained.” Seungmin grumbled but didn’t move from the step, so Minho left him alone and went to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. He had just finished cleaning up his dishes (and setting aside the extra serving of ramen he’d made for Seungmin) when the younger came bounding in.

“I think they just got out of the elevator,” he reported as he whipped around the corner. Minho startled slightly at the sudden entrance, but set aside the dishes and handed Seungmin the extra food with instructions to “eat well and stay out of our room while I deal with the two idiots” before hurrying to the entrance. Seungmin had been right, it _was_ their band mates who had come out of the elevator. He arrived just as they started to type in the code and pulled out his phone, glancing at the timer. It only served to spike his irritation once more. He glanced up as the door opened.

“Tell me how long this timer’s been going,” he ordered the two miscreants as soon as they walked in. Hyunjin and Jeongin both jumped, stumbling back a step into the door that had shut behind them.

“Well?” Minho demanded when neither of them answered.

“Forty-three minutes and twelve seconds,” Jeongin said timidly.

“That means you’re thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds late,” Minho informed them. “And that’s _on top of_ the hour I spent trying to get ahold of you. Did both your phones ‘run out of battery?’” He directed the last barb at Jeongin, who shrank behind Hyunjin and fiddled nervously with the plastic shopping bags in his hands.

“Sorry, Hyung, we were on our way home but then we realized that we hadn’t gotten everything we planned on so we went back-“ Hyunjin started.

“You were in the convenience store for three and a half hours and still didn’t manage to grab everything you went for,” Minho interjected flatly because _really?_ ** _That’s_** the story they were going with? The pair of them really needed to take lying lessons from Seungmin, at least _his_ spun tale had been somewhat feasible.

“I- Well- We got food and sat outside, and got distracted and went for a walk, then you called for snacks...”

“-Several times, and you didn’t answer any of them. Then _Seungmin_ called and you picked up straight away. Funny, that.” Hyunjin winced.

“Yeah,” he said lamely. What a recovery. “And then you called us through Seungmin’s phone-“

“-And told you to come straight home, only you didn’t do that.” Minho crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, staring them down.

“No, no, we _did_ come back right away,” Hyunjin spluttered.

“Hmm, but see, that doesn’t add up,” Minho said coolly. “Because if you _did_ come straight home, you’d have to have been a lot further away than the corner store to just be getting back now, which means you lied to me about where you were going.” Minho watched with a sort of satisfaction as Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he came to the realization that they’d been caught in their lie.

“So which one is it?” Minho pressed. “Did you lie to me or did you deliberately disobey me?” The two boys gaped at him.

“I guess in a way it’s both,” he mused when he received no answer. “Because you had to lie to me in order to get out of the dorm in the first place so that you could disobey me and go to Itaewon. I’m assuming that’s where you went?”

Silence. He rolled his eyes.

“Am I _wrong?_ ” He pressed.

“No, Hyung,” Jeongin said smally from where he was still half-behind Hyunjin. Minho smiled sarcastically at them.

“Thought so,” he said. “I couldn’t think of any other conceivable reason you’d ignore my calls and texts. Did you seriously think you could get away with this?” The boys hung their heads, and Minho tutted and beckoned them closer. Jeongin tripped over himself in his haste to take his shoes off, and Minho swooped in to catch him before he fell. Jeongin let out a startled squeak.

“Aigoo,” Minho sighed. “Such a klutz, Innie. Is your phone okay after you dropped it?” Jeongin blushed and nodded, fidgeting nervously in his grip.

“Good. Tweedle-dumb, follow us. If you try to run I’ll cut off your toes.” Hyunjin muttered something along the lines of “I wouldn’t try to run!” (he was lying to himself, he had in the past and there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that he would try again in the future), but reluctantly trailed Minho, with Jeongin in tow, back to their room, closing the door behind them. Minho pushed them down onto Hyunjin’s bed.

“So,” he chirped, looking down at the pair. “Why didn’t you answer my texts or calls?”

“We didn’t want you to tell us to come home,” Hyunjin admitted sullenly. “And we knew you would if we answered.”

“And it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?” Minho surmised scathingly. “Only, you _had_ already asked for permission, and it hadn’t been granted.” Jeongin flinched.

“Do you have any idea how serious this could have been?” Minho pressed. “I was just about to go out and look for you myself, and do you know what would have happened? I wouldn’t have found you, because you weren’t where you said you’d be. I’d have had to call the managers, Channie-Hyung and even the _police_ because you could have been kidnapped by a sasaeng or mugged for your expensive wardrobe choices!”

“We wouldn’t have gotten mugged,” Hyunjin countered petulantly.

“Well you’ve both already been stalked and basically kidnapped,” Minho snapped. “And that’s not that far off.” That got Hyunjin to shut up.

“When we tell you not to go somewhere alone it’s for _your safety_. When you tell us where you’re going when you’re going out it’s for **_your_** _safety_. You’re famous now. People know you and they can use their knowledge of you for good or evil. We need to know where you are so that we can jump into action quickly if something happens. Do you understand that? Do you see how stupid it was to lie to me like that?” Jeongin nodded rapidly, tears in his eyes. He never did take scolding well.

“Hwang Hyunjin, how about you?” Minho prodded. Hyunjin bit his lip and nodded, all his previous bravado gone.

“Do you have anything to say for yourselves?” Minho demanded.

“We’re sorry Hyung,” Jeongin said timidly. “We didn’t think about that, it’s just that there was a pop-up store that’s closing tonight and we reeeeeaaally wanted to go.”

“And was it worth it?” Jeongin glanced nervously up at Hyunjin, likely hoping that the elder would swoop in and save him from answering.

“I’m asking _you_ , Jeongin,” Minho said pointedly. “Don’t hide behind your Hyung, you’re just as guilty as he is.” Jeongin blushed and fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

“I don’t think so?” he said after a minute, screwing his eyes closed as though he was worried he was saying the wrong thing. Minho had to laugh. Poor little Jeongin and his people-pleasing heart.

“Aigoo, you’re too cute,” he teased. “But not cute enough to get you out of trouble. Hyunjin-ah, go stand in the corner.” Hyunjin practically flew off the bed, probably delighted that he was able to put off his own misfortune. Minho turned back to the maknae.

“Any last words?” He asked lightly. Jeongin shook his head and wiped his eyes as Minho tugged him closer. A couple minutes and a disproportionate number of apologies later, Minho helped the boy clumsily to his feet.

“Okay, Innie-Innie, all done,” he soothed. “You’re okay.” Jeongin all but threw himself onto Minho’s lap, clinging so desperately to him that Minho thought his heart was going to crack by the sheer force of the hug. He hugged back just as tight and peppered the only exposed sliver of Jeongin’s face in kisses until the boy’s sobs turned into (fake) irritated whines, and finally a shy, watery little smile.

“‘M sorry, Minho-Hyung,” Jeongin said for probably the thirtieth time. Minho hummed and rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder.

“I know, Baby, you’re forgiven. I forgave you the first time,” he said. “You wanna go lie down so you don’t have to listen to Hyunjinnie?” Hyunjin’s histrionics when he was being punished were enough to make anyone’s head ache, but given that Jeongin tended to look at his tallest Hyung like he had hung the moon, they would probably also make the boy’s heart ache too and that just wouldn’t do. It was better to stick Jeongin in his own room where the melodramatic wails would at least be muffled. Jeongin nodded and scooted off Minho’s lap, allowing Minho to wrap his arm around him and guide him out of the room.

“Chan-Hyung said it had to be done before he got home today!” “-Well then _you_ do it then!” Was the first thing he heard when he opened the door. He groaned internally. Instead of making a right down the hall to the youngest boy’s room, he made a left towards the living room to break up what seemed to be the millionth fight that Changbin and Jisung were having today.

“I already did my part, I’m not doing yours too. Stop being such a lazy ass!”

“Don’t call me a- Hey! What are you doing?”

“Calling Chan-Hyung- _Ow!_ Han Jisung give me back my phone!”

Minho reached the threshold of the living room and leaned against the wall, Jeongin tucked up against his side.

“What is it this time?” He groaned.

“Jisung’s not listening to me!” Changbin huffed.

“When does Jisung ever listen to you?” Minho retorted, before he turned to the younger member of 3Racha.

“What did Changbin ask you to do?”

Jisung scowled. “You were supposed to take _my_ side,” he said petulantly. Changbin rolled his eyes and cut in.

“I just asked him to clean up his share of the mess from last night like Channie-Hyung told us to!” He said. “And when I tried to call Hyung for backup he snatched my phone!”

“You’re such a tattle tale!” Jisung whined.

“Am not” Changbin spat back. “You should have just listened to me if you didn’t want to get in trouble! _Hyung!_ ” He whirled back to Minho for support.

“I don’t have the energy for this,” Minho sighed. He mentally kicked himself as Jeongin shrank a little in his arms. While Innie was a cheeky little brat a lot of the time, any type of _serious_ punishment tended to leave him in dire need of reassurance that he wasn’t a bad person or a burden to the team. Chan and Minho had expended great amounts of energy into correcting that ridiculous notion he had internalized over the years, but Jeongin still sometimes needed a little extra TLC to remind him of that, and Minho would be damned if he let himself fail to fulfil his Hyungly duty to the maknae.

“Aigoo- Not you, Innie-ah,” he corrected himself quickly, tugging Jeongin closer and kissing his forehead. “It’s not because of you, Baby. It’s Jisung and his stubbornness. Our Innie isn’t stubborn like that.” Jeongin sniffled, looking mere seconds away from bursting into tears again as he stared determinedly at the floor. It was at this point that Changbin seemed to clue into the youngest member’s presence in the room.

“Innie-ah, what happened?” He asked, concerned. Jeongin let out a teary, shuddering breath and shook his head. Changbin cooed at the sight and rushed forward, petty fight seemingly forgotten as he distracted the maknae enough that Minho could deal with Jisung. Minho took advantage and did just that.

“Phone,” he said sternly. Jisung huffed and handed Changbin’s phone over.

“And yours,” Minho added, keeping his hand out expectantly.

“But... But _Lino-ring_ ~!” Jisung whined, knees buckling slightly as though he was debating whether or not to stamp his feet. Minho kept his face blank at Jisung’s cutesy nickname for him.

“Uh-Uh,” he said. “I’m Hyung to you right now. Give me your phone.” Jisung pouted and handed the device over.

“Good. Now go sit on your bed until you’re ready to apologize to Changbin for not listening to him and taking his phone.”This time Jisung actually _did_ stamp his feet.

“No!” he pouted. Minho rolled his eyes.

“ ** _Go_** , Jisung. I’ve already spanked three dongsaengs today, I have no problem making it four.” Technically he had only spanked one and a half, Hyunjin was still waiting his turn and Seungmin’s could _hardly_ be considered a spanking, but the threat was still valid. Jisung huffed and stomped off towards his room. Sighing, Minho turned back to Jeongin, who was curled up in Changbin’s arms, hunched over so he could hide his face in the crook of the shortest member’s neck.

“Aigoo Innie-Innie,” he cooed. “Let’s relocate to Changbinnie’s room, okay?” He glanced up at Changbin, who nodded his agreement, before ushering the pair of them off to the third bedroom.

“Let’s sit on your Hyungie’s bed,” Minho said gently as they entered the room, stealing Jeongin fully back from Changbin’s arms and tugging him down in his lap. Jeongin curled up and rested his head on Minho’s collarbone, and Minho glanced up at the rapper.

“Do you think you can handle being unsupervised in the same room as Jisung for thirty seconds while you grab a pair of sweats for the maknae, or will that end in homicide?” He asked, only slightly scathingly. Changbin rolled his eyes, but left to do as he had been requested to do. Minho turned back to Jeongin, picking up his soothing litany from before that had been so rudely interrupted by the two producers and their petty fight. Changbin shuffled into the room with a questioning look and a pair of sweat pants that he started helping the maknae into. Minho explained the whole ordeal to him.

“Aigoo, Innie, why didn’t you just ask me to come?” Changbin asked when Minho had finished explaining. “I wasn’t doing anything today anyways, and then you wouldn’t have had to lie. You _know_ you can’t lie for shit.”

“And even if you could, you still shouldn’t,” Minho felt compelled to add, even though it made him a hypocrite. Maybe his soul had been temporarily taken over by Chan. Jeongin sniffled and hid his face in his hands.

“Next time,” Changbin reassured the maknae, coaxing him back out. “Right Innie?” The youngest vocalist nodded fervently. Changbin cooed and pounced on the boy, stealing him out of Minho’s lap to smother him in kisses.

“You’re so _cute_ ,” he gushed. “You’re my favourite dongsaeng. Don’t tell any of the others except Jisung, I want to make him jealous.” Jeongin was too tired to even _try_ to pull a face at the affection he was being given. Minho laughed and ruffled his hair, giving him one last kiss on the forehead and informing him that he was going to deal with Hyunjin.

He left Jeongin in Changbin’s more-than-capable hands. The 99-liner had a way of coaxing the maknae out of his shell that was second to none, Jeongin would be fine. Shutting the door behind him, he made his way back to his own room, pausing outside the door to brace himself for what was to come.

You would think for someone who carried themselves with so much grace during red carpets that it would carry over into other aspects of his life, but that was, unfortunately, not the case. Many adjectives could be used to describe how Hyunjin took his punishments but _gracefully_ was **_not_** one of them. Steeling himself, he opened the door and went in, shutting it behind himself firmly before he went over and tapped Hyunjin’s shoulder. He couldn’t resist rolling his eyes as Hyunjin squeaked and scurried out of his grasp. He reached out again, only for Hyunjin to make a break for their bedroom door.

“Hyunjin!” he scolded sharply, easily catching the younger and frogmarching him over to his bed before he could escape the room. “I said no running!” The next several minutes were no fun for either of them, and Minho would definitely be needing an Advil afterwards. He pulled the gangly dancer awkwardly up into his lap, almost dropping him when he went completely limp in despair. _Almost_.

“ _Ow_ , Hyung! That _hurt_!” Hyunjin cried. You don’t say.

Minho didn’t dignify the complaint with a verbal response. He just hummed and gathered the boy closer, allowing him to cry himself out. Experience told him that sometimes it was best to let their resident drama queen work through some of his emotions on his own before offering comfort. At the first signs of tears slowing, he leaned over to his Hyunjin’s nightstand and grabbed a tissue from the box.

“Hyunjinnie,” he said softly, holding it out. Hyunjin’s eyes widened. He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head adamantly, the last of his tears gliding down his face.

“Not for your mouth, you idiot, for your eyes,” Minho said. Hyunjin relaxed slightly in his hold, before tentatively allowing Minho to gently dry his waterline and cheeks, though he kept his mouth shut tight. Minho grabbed another tissue and handed it to the younger dancer.

“For your nose,” he clarified. “Blow.” Hyunjin sniffled and took the tissue to do as he was told, discarding it when he was done and dropping his head tiredly on Minho’s shoulder. Minho sniffed affectionately and started to run his fingers through the boy’s hair, scratching behind his ears. He couldn’t help the soft smile that played at his lips as Hyunjin shivered and stretched out like a cat at the contact. The little shit was going to wriggle his way back into Minho’s good graces way too quickly if he kept that up.

“No more lying and going MIA, okay?” He told the younger gently. “We need to know where you are when you’re out.” Hyunjin sniffled dramatically.

“I’ll never ever leave your sight _again_ ,” he promised. Minho snorted at the impossible proclamation. It was so very _Hyunjin_.

“Okay, Hyunjinnie,” he said. He stayed with the younger in his lap and played with his hair until he had calmed down. By the time Hyunjin had caught his breath again, Minho’s legs were starting to go numb and he was made aware that his three coffees had passed through his system. Tapping Hyunjin’s thigh gently, he tried to shift the boy off his lap. Hyunjin grumbled in protest.

“Come on Jinnie, up you get,” He tried again.

“No,” Hyunjin pouted. Minho bit back a groan.

“Why don’t you go find Innie now? He was in Changbin’s room before,” he tried a distraction tactic. Hyunjin shook his head and clung tighter to him. Minho would be concerned if not for the mischievous smirk on the other dancer’s face.

“No?” He asked exasperatedly. Hyunjin nodded proudly.

“Seriously Hyunjin. Let go, I need to go to the bathroom,” Minho said, trying to wriggle free.

“No,” Hyunjin giggled. “I’m never leaving your side again, remember?” Minho huffed a disbelieving laugh.

“Okay but I have to pee and you’re not coming in there with me,” he said, trying once again to escape from the lanky boy’s octopus grip on him.

“Why not?” Hyunjin smiled evilly. “We all share a bathroom all the time anyways.”

“ _Because_ ,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want to pee with such at attentive audience. Get off or I’ll push you.” When Hyunjin still didn’t move, Minho shrugged to himself and pushed the boy to the floor. He landed on his butt and let out a melodramatic yelp that Minho ignored in favour of stepping over the body and making a beeline for the bathroom. He tuned out the boy’s over-acted wails of “Nooooo, Hyung, don’t leeeeeeave meeeee! I have to stay in your sights at all timeeeees!”

Yeah, Hyunjin would be fine. He shut the bathroom door.

When he emerged, he very nearly tripped over the younger boy, who had sprawled out on the floor right in front of the bathroom door. Hyunjin let out a dramatic “oof!” and clutched his stomach in pain, looking up at Minho with betrayal as though he hadn’t put himself in that exact position that left him exposed to the risk of getting stepped on. Laughing to himself at the absurdity of the situation, he tried to step over the boy. Hyunjin immediately latched onto his leg with all four limbs, laughing hysterically and making it _very difficult_ for him to shuffle over to the couch.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled as he dropped down onto the couch. “Come here you big baby.” Hyunjin beamed and scurried up onto the couch next to him, plopping his head unceremoniously in Minho’s lap and tugging on Minho’s hand until he brought it to rest in his hair. Minho sighed tiredly and resumed the gentle scalp massage his had given to the boy earlier. Hyunjin hummed in contentment and smiled up at him. Minho returned it with an exaggerated grimace. _This was nice_. If Hyunjin was subdued and sleepy and under his direct supervision, he wouldn’t be running around riling the others up so Minho could finally have some lasting peace and quiet today.

And maybe part of him felt relieved having his dongsaeng safe within his sights and away from harm. Maybe. Speaking of riling people up, where had Seungmin got to?

As soon as the thought entered his mind, the younger singer entered the room, making a beeline for them and plunking down on Minho’s free side.

“3Racha still haven’t cleared off the dining room table from last night,” the boy whined. “I wanted to do a puzzle on it.” Oh, yeah. Jisung was still in his room. He shifted to glance at Seungmin.

“Go tell Jisungie he can leave his room if he cleans up the mess,” he said. “And then ask him if he wants to do the puzzle with you, I want him distracted.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Seungmin grumbled, even as he climbed off the couch.

“I can’t. I’m a pillow.” He gestured to Hyunjin, who looked mere minutes away from falling asleep. Seungmin shrugged and sauntered off down the hall. He returned a few minutes later with Jisung. Minho beckoned him over with his free hand.

“Are you done being a pest?” He asked. Jisung sulked and nodded.

“Good. Go clean up your mess like Changbin told you to and find something quiet to do.”

“Can I have my phone back?” Jisung asked, puppy eyes open wide.

“After you’ve cleaned the table.” Jisung grumbled but went to do as he was told. A few minutes later, he and Seungmin reappeared from the kitchen and wandered over to the couch.

“What happened to doing a puzzle?” Minho asked. Seungmin shrugged.

“Changed my mind,” he said, flopping down on the couch. Minho shrugged and handed Jisung’s phone back to him.

“Alright. As long as you keep it down.” He glanced down pointedly. Seungmin nodded his understanding and turned on the TV at low volume.

Hyunjin was still stretched out on the couch, now fast asleep with his cheek smushed into Minho’s thigh while Minho continued to run a hand idly through his hair. Hyunjin napped like this often. Unlike Felix, who seemed to need as much surface area contact with the nearest human as was physically possible while he slept, Hyunjin preferred to have one key point of contact. Minho kept up with the mindless ministrations, only vaguely aware of his actions as his hand moved from muscle memory over the younger boy’s scalp. Most of his mental energy was split between the music show on the TV in the background and proving Seungmin wrong in the Great Water Debate (“Is water dry, Kim Seungmin? No? Then by definition it must be wet!”). Jisung, for all that he kicked up a fuss about being exiled to his room, was making no effort to interact with them now that he was free. He was perched on the armrest at the far end of the couch, AirPods in and very absorbed in whatever National Geographic video he had pulled up on YouTube. They heard the quiet beep of the front passcode being typed in and Seungmin shot off the couch like a bullet.

“Hyung, Minho-Hyung called me a bitch!” He whined, probably before Chan had even crossed the threshold into their unit.

“What happened to snitches get stitches, you little shit?” Minho yelped from his position on the couch. “Besides, you deserved it!” He heard Chan sigh and mutter something to Felix in English (the only word he recognized was “fridge” so he assumed the youngest rapper was being tasked with putting away the groceries), and then the leader was stepping into the main area and sending him a questioning look.

“Changbin’s the only one who didn’t get in trouble today and he’s on thin fucking ice,” Minho informed him. Chan heaved another tired sigh and turned to Seungmin.

“What did you do?” He asked wearily.

“Nothing!” Seungmin whined. Chan rolled his eyes and turned to Minho expectantly. Minho graciously gave him the lowdown on Seungmin’s wrongdoings of the day (and by extension, the basics of Hyunjin and I.N’s, though he would have to fill the leader in more fully later). Chan took it all in, nodding along appropriately to Minho’s grievances like the good leader he was and shooting Seungmin a look of disapproval.

“It sounds to me like you deserved it,” he said mildly. “Plus his comeback rhymed, that’s bonus parenting marks.”

“ _Hyung!_ ” Seungmin whined.

“Stop being a menace,” Chan scolded. “Do we need to have a conversation about respecting your Hyung?”

“Bold of you to assume he’d ever cooperate with me,” Minho snorted. Seungmin stuck his tongue out, and Chan tutted and shooed him away with a “go help Felix put the frozens away, you brat.” Seungmin obeyed, and Chan turned his attention back to Minho.

“What got into them today?” He mused.

“Maybe you forgot to tell them to behave for me before you left, _Dad_ ,” Minho said sardonically.

The leader snorted at his response and sauntered towards the couch. Just then, Changbin’s door flew open and Jeongin tumbled out, giggling as he evaded Changbin’s outstretched arms. Not looking where he was going, he stumbled and fell right into Chan. He looked up with a squeak and tripped back a few paces into Changbin’s waiting arms, and the third-eldest glomped onto him.

“Hi Innie,” Chan said amusedly.

“Hi Hyung,” Jeongin said timidly.

“What did you get up to today?” Chan asked. Jeongin curled slightly in Changbin’s arm as he looked up calculatingly at Chan before glancing at Minho, trying to size them up to see how much he should be sharing. Chan and Minho shared an indulgent look at the boy’s antics.

“Why do you ask?” Jeongin asked in what was probably supposed to be a casual way. Minho rolled his eyes.

“He knows you got in trouble, you may as well fess up,” he said, and the maknae shrank even further into Changbin’s arms.

“You’re not in any more trouble,” Chan reassured the boy. “I just want to know what happened.”

Jeongin fidgeted with Changbin’s hoodie strings, cheeks flushed as he mumbled, “Hyunjinnie-Hyung and I went to Itaewon.” Chan quirked his eyebrow.

“And how did you manage to get Minho to agree to that?” He prompted.

“We didn’t,” Jeongin mumbled.

“So you snuck out.”

“No!” Jeongin said quickly. “We told him we were going out, we just...”

“Lied about the location?” Minho suggested blandly. Jeongin nodded.

“And what happened after?” Chan asked. Jeongin whined and tried to squirm free from Changbin’s hug. Luckily for him, Changbin was an expert at hugging people who thought they didn’t want it and inflicting love on people when they were in denial about needing it.

“And then Minho-Hyung found out and laid a trap-“ Minho scoffed at that.

“I did _not_ lay a trap,” he retorted. “I just heavily implied that if you were where you said you’d be, that you’d be home when I told you to be. And you missed a couple key details in there.” Jeongin wilted, and Changbin hugged him tighter. Whether it was in a show of comfort and support or to prevent the maknae from running and hiding in shame was yet to be determined. Chan looked at the boy expectantly and gestured for him to fill in the blanks.

“We didn’t answer any of Minho-Hyung’s calls while we were out because we didn’t want him to tell us to come home,” Jeongin admitted smally.

“And?” Minho prompted.

“And we lied to him when he called us from Seungmin-Hyung’s phone.” Chan sighed.

“And how’d that all work out for you?” Minho asked wryly.

“Badly,” Jeongin mumbled. Changbin kissed the side of his head, and Chan shook his head in fond exasperation.

“This always happens to you,” he said. “When are you going to learn not to lie to us? It never works out in your favour.”

“I already told him he can’t lie for shit,” Changbin tacked on, poking Jeongin in the ribs. Jeongin squeaked, then gave an offended huff.

“We’ll work on it,” Changbin reassured him.

“No you won’t,” Chan deadpanned. “Lying is _bad_. No more lying. Got it?” Jeongin nodded, and Changbin finally released him from the vice-like hug with a final, exaggerated squeeze. Jeongin scampered off.

Chan sighed and turned to Jisung, who at some point had removed his headphones and was now watching the conversation with amused superiority written on his face.

“And what about you?” He asked resignedly. “What kind of headache did you inflict on your hyungs today?”

“Excuse you, I was the epitome of agreeableness today,” Jisung said offendedly. Changbin scoffed loudly.

“Epitome of agreeableness, my ass,” he retorted. Minho echoed his sentiments internally. “You’ve been a thorn in my side all day.”

“Have not!” Jisung argued. _Have so_ , Minho thought to himself.

“Oh, so you _didn’t_ cut me off on my way to the bathroom so you could shower before me, sabotage my KartRider game, or refuse to clean up your shit?” Changbin challenged.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Chan said wearily as the two younger members of 3Racha dove into yet another argument. “Hey! Cut it out, you two!” They paid him no mind.

“ _Hyung!_ ” Felix whined, bounding into the room and glaring at Chan with the utmost betrayal. Another addition to the chaos. “How come Minho-Hyung’s allowed to call people bitches and I’m not?” Seungmin sauntered into the room at a much more leisurely pace, looking much too pleased with himself. He was playing smart, trying to use Felix as leverage to get Chan to turn on him. Minho begrudgingly respected him for that.

“Don’t you start too,” Chan groaned. He had temporarily given up trying to split up the argument between the other two rappers.

“He has a point, Hyung,” Seungmin said smugly. “Your blatant favouritism is showing again.” Chan groaned and shot Minho an exasperated look.

“I’m not dealing with them,” Minho said flatly, gesturing to the maddening dissonance that was two simultaneous arguments between the kids. “I already dealt with the rest of today. They’re your problem now.” Chan shrugged as if to say ‘fair enough’ before turning to the kids.

“ ** _Hey!_** ” He yelled. “ _Knock it off!_ ” There he was _._ Leader-Chan. _Oh, how Minho had missed him today_. His sharp order had the unfortunate side effect of rousing Hyunjin from his sleep, and the dancer whined and rolled over to smush his face in Minho’s stomach, hiding from the noise. Minho shushed him gently, before turning back to see if Chan needed parental support.

“No more fighting,” The leader scolded. “Han, stop trying to get under Changbin’s skin. Changbin, stop letting him. Seungmin, you got in trouble fair and square, stop trying to take others down with you. And Felix, you still can’t call people bitches.”

“But you let Minho-“

“ _Felix_ ,” Chan growled in warning. Felix huffed and turned to glower at Minho instead, still intent on making his displeasure at the perceived injustice known but smart enough to not push Chan further. Minho simply quirked his eyebrow at the look. _Sucks to suck, Yongbok._

“How is _Hyunjin_ the least annoying among you right now?” He mused out loud.

“Hey!” Hyunjin whined, sleepily swatting at Minho’s stomach. “‘M never ‘noying.” His words were muffled because his nose was still firmly pressed into Minho’s navel.

“Go back to sleep,” Minho snickered fondly. Hyunjin hummed, face smoothing out as he drifted back to dreamland. Minho sighed in relief. Contrary to what Hyunjin seemed to think, he _absolutely was_ a nuisance and Minho had no doubt that, being cranky from his premature awakening, he would _absolutely_ have joined in on any one of the arguments just for the sake of arguing. Minho tuned out whatever Chan was saying to the others, redirecting his focus to keeping the eldest of the maknaes asleep. Hyunjin looked so innocent curled up like this. Eventually Chan managed to occupy the other hooligans, before coming to crouch down next to Hyunjin and run a hand through his hair.

“What’d you do to the rest of the kids?” Minho teased. Chan sighed.

“I sent Changbin to the gym for some ‘me time,’ the rest of them _should_ be putting the dishes away and cleaning out the fridge. We should probably go find Innie at some point, he hasn’t reappeared yet.” _Right, the maknae_. He had managed to fly under the radar in the chaos. No doubt he was curled up in some crevice of the apartment and wallowing in self-pity and/or self-loathing. Chan glanced back down at Hyunjin with a fond look.

“I know we should wake him up so he can sleep tonight but he looks so peaceful like this,” he sighed.

“Plus he’s not causing any more trouble like this,” Minho added. Chan chuckled.

“That too,” he said. “Maybe we should just let him sleep.” There was a yelp and a crash from the kitchen. Chan winced.

“Yeah, definitely keep him asleep,” he said quickly. “One sleepless night won’t kill him but one of the other kids might. They’ve gone wild.” Minho laughed.

“I’ll take him back to our room. Then at least there’s a door between him and the chaos.” He slid out from under Hyunjin’s head and carefully picked the boy up.

“Good idea,” Chan said. Minho smiled and hitched a completely-limp Hyunjin further up in his arms. “And Minho?” Minho turned back to glance at him.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call your dongsaeng a bitch,” Chan scolded fondly now that the kids were all out of earshot or unconscious. Minho rolled his eyes and carried on to his room to deposit the Hyunjin-Lump in his arms onto his bed.

When he resurfaced from setting the sleeping boy down in his bed, it was to Chan gently pushing the maknae into his arms with a meaningful look. Minho nodded his understanding and led the boy over to the couch, sitting down next to him. Jeongin not-so-surreptitiously cuddled closer until his was fully in Minho’s lap.

“Where were you hiding?” Minho teased gently, reaching up to ruffle Jeongin’s hair.

“Channie-Hyung’s closet,” Jeongin mumbled, burying his face in Minho’s collarbone. _Of course_. One of Jeongin’s favourite hiding spots. Minho sniffed fondly. He didn’t try to initiate conversation, giving Jeongin the chance to do so when he was ready. The fidgety hand brought up to play with the younger boy’s shirt collar, a familiar nervous habit of his, told Minho that he was almost there.

“Hyung?” Jeongin said after another minute of silence. Minho smiled down at him.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Do you really forgive me?” _Ouch_.

“Of course I do,” Minho said. “You were punished _hours ago_. And you apologized like, fifty times already.” Jeongin huffed.

“I _know_ but-“

“But nothing,” Minho said. Jeongin pouted.

“I still want to make it up to you,” he said, looking up to meet Minho’s eyes. His lip was wobbling slightly.

“You already did,” Minho reminded him. “What does Channie-Hyung always say? That the best way to make up for your mistakes is to...?”

“Learn from them,” Jeongin mumbled reluctantly. They had this conversation often with him.

“ _Exactly_. And you did. I know it’s annoying when he says that all the time but he’s right,” Minho said. “But don’t tell him I said that, it’ll go to his head.” Jeongin smiled softly.

“Thanks, Hyung,” He murmured, cuddling back up. Minho kissed the top of his head in acknowledgement.

“What’d you get up to with Changbinnie?” He asked. Distraction was always a safe tactic with any of the kids when they were wallowing post-punishment. As expected, Jeongin perked up immediately.

“We started watching a new anime,” he chirped.

“That’s fun,” Minho enthused. Jeongin hummed his agreement and launched into the plot of the story.

“Hyung Hyung Hyung!” Felix trilled, bouncing into the room and cutting Jeongin off. “Can we make that boiled chicken recipe for dinner tonight? Pleeeeeease?”

“ _You_ can,” Minho answered. “ _I’m_ not cooking tonight. Fend for yourselves.” Felix pouted.

“But you’re the one with the recipe!” He fussed.

“I can’t move, I’ve got an Innie in my lap. Figure it out on your own.” He pinned Jeongin with a hug so there would be no chance of escape because Jeongin was a cheeky brat who would otherwise have stood up _just because_ Minho had used him as an excuse. Jeongin giggled.

“ _Please_ , Hyung?“

“Leave Minho alone, Lix, he’s had to put up with a lot already today,” Chan intervened. “If you ask nicely, he might send you the recipe and then you and I can make it.” Minho shot him a grateful look as he shepherded Felix out of the room.

Soon enough, Changbin returned from the gym and after a quick shower went to join the kitchen team, and then it was dinnertime. Minho watched from the couch, Jeongin still in his lap as Changbin shuffled off down the hall, re-emerging a few minutes later leading a still-ninety-percent-asleep Hyunjin to the table by the hand. They soon disappeared into the kitchen.

“Lee Know, stop holding the maknae hostage and come eat!” Chan called. Minho groaned but set Jeongin free and allowed the younger to pull him up from his seat.

“Yah Ahjussi,” Hyunjin snickered as soon as he sat down. “Why so slow on your feet? Are you half asleep?” Those were _very_ bold words from the kid who had spent the better part of an hour dead to the world and who had needed to have his hand held to get him to the table. He reached over and pinched Hyunjin’s arm. Hyunjin yelped, glancing around the table to look for sympathy. He didn’t seem to find any so he pouted down at his bowl instead.

Dinner was a relatively peaceful affair, as the kids seemed to have worn themselves out by acting up all day. Chan was super charitable and made Changbin and Jisung do the dishes together to, quote, “Work out their differences while working together on a common goal” which was just poetic justice at its finest. His night got even better when Chan ordered everyone to leave him alone for the rest of the evening because “Minho has been through enough with you hellions today.” He had herded the remaining kids into the living room and distracted them by pulling out the UNO cards, giving Minho a chance to take a long, gloriously hot shower and then retreat to his bunk for some peace and quiet and his previously abandoned Netflix drama. He was so tired that he powered off his laptop after only two episodes, setting it aside. The bright light from the ceiling was pouring in from the gap in his curtain but his limbs felt like lead and he just couldn’t bring himself to get up and turn them off. He rolled over onto his side and curled into his blankets. This was quite possibly the most tired he’d ever felt after a day off. Maybe he should ask Chan to get him another one (Ha!). The bedroom door creaked open.

“Hyung?” Seungmin whispered. “Are you still awake?” Minho held very still and closed is eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the younger, it was just that he was too tired to converse with _anyone_ right now. He heard bare feet padding softly across the floor, and more light flooded through his eyelids as the curtain was lifted back.

“G’Night, Hyung,” Seungmin said softly. Minho could see exactly when the younger leaned over him, his shadow blocking the light from the ceiling. “Love you.” A small, timid peck was pressed against Minho’s cheek. He managed to hold back his sappy smile until the curtain was let back down, and the room plunged into total darkness as Seungmin flicked the light switch. Sure, the kids were all brats and gave him a wicked headache some days. But couldn’t help but love his brothers, and he’d be at a loss without them. _Yeah_ , he decided as he drifted off to sleep for real this time. _He wouldn’t trade the little punks (or Chan) for anything in the world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who comments, kudos and bookmarks! It seriously motivates me to keep writing. <3


	21. Mile Cry Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Hyunjin flies solo and it's not very much fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks LilMissRandom17 for the inspiration for this one!

Hyunjin normally really liked his job at Music Core. Being an MC was fun, and he got to meet a lot of artists and see a lot of his friends. But right now, he didn’t really like it so much, because it meant that while the rest of his team got to spend a couple days relaxing and walking along the Santa Monica Pier and running rampant through Disneyland after their schedules were finished, he had to hop on a return flight to Korea three days early. The only person, it seemed, who was less thrilled than Hyunjin at that development was their leader.

“I don’t like you going alone,” Chan fussed. He, Hyunjin and their manager were currently congregated in the hotel lobby to try and figure out the logistics for Hyunjin’s flight out the next day. “Maybe I should come along, at least until you get to security-“

“ _No_ , Chan,” their manager sighed. “You’re not using your day off to accompany Hyunjin to the airport.”

“But Hyung, what if he gets lost? This is _Hyunjin_ we’re talking about!” Chan protested. Hyunjin was offended. He wasn’t _that_ directionally challenged (though he wouldn’t mind the emotional support). Now he _wanted_ to go alone, just to show Channie-Hyung he could.

“He won’t get lost in the twenty steps he’ll take from the drop off point to the door,” the manager said, rolling his eyes. _Yeah!_

“And you need the day off more than anyone. You’re not allowed to be a leader tomorrow, go to the pier with the other boys and be a normal kid for a few hours. Hyunjin-ah, would you feel better having someone come with you? Either I or one of the other staff can accompany you part-way if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No thanks, Hyung,” Hyunjin said, smirking at Chan as he did so. The leader looked like he was going to have an aneurism at his words. _Ye of little faith._

“If you say so,” the manager said. “You should probably go finish packing now. I’ll call you to come down forty minutes before our dinner reservation, don’t be late.” Hyunjin left to do just that, sticking his tongue out at Chan as he went. He didn’t need someone else holding his hand at the airport. He would be _fine_.

He was not fine. In fact, he was very, very lost. Okay, not very lost, he was like 90% certain that he was in the right terminal, at least. And if he wasn’t it was the driver’s fault, _not his_. But regardless, he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to be going next and all the signs were in English and he was a little overwhelmed. He didn’t speak much English, normally he relied on Felix or Chan to navigate (Normally Chan, actually, Felix was more of a last resort. He could understand directions given but had the internal compass of a rubber duck so he’d always get lost anyways). Maybe he should call... _No_. He had something to prove. But on the other hand...

All the sudden, he toppled back, nearly falling over his suitcase as he was all but bowled over by a very large, very agitated man who was talking loudly on the phone. The man barked something at him over his shoulder, and even though Hyunjin didn’t recognize the words, he could recognize that the man was irritated at him for being in the way. He stumbled back, muttering an apology as he accidentally bumped into someone else. _Okay, screw proving a point. People were scary and didn’t want to figure this out alone anymore!_ He fumbled for his phone and hit the call button, waiting for the call to connect.

“ _Hello?_ ”

_Oh_ , he could _cry_ at hearing that familiar voice.

“Hyung?” He stuttered.

“ _Hi, Hyunjinnie_ ,” came the leader’s warm voice through the speakers. He could feel it seeping under his skin and warming the ice bucket chills that had been running down his spine. “ _Are you at the airport now?”_

“Yeah,” Was all he could get out. He was still lugging his huge suitcase and carry-on around figuring out where the hell he was supposed to be going.

“ _Hyunjin? Earth to Jinnie! Is something wrong, kiddo?_ ” God bless their leader and his mind reading abilities.

“I- Um-“ He stammered. “I don’t know what to do now. I’ve never done this on my own before.” Chan sighed.

“ _This is why they should have let me come with you_ ,” he said. “ _I can’t believe they’d just leave you to fend for yourself, at least send a driver who can walk you through check-in first_. **_Honestly_** _, why they even gave you the_ ** _option_** _of going alone is beyond me.”_ Hyunjin happened to agree with his Hyung’s ramblings. Sure, he had declined their manager’s offer of accompaniment to the airport to prove he was grown up and could handle himself, _but still_. How dare they actually let him go by himself? Didn’t they know that he was, in fact, a walking disaster?

“Check-in?” Hyunjin asked. “Where’s that?”

“ _Look for the airline logo_ ,” Chan told him. “ _There will be people at the kiosk who can help you with check-in. And they’ll probably speak Korean._ ”

“Okay,” Hyunjin said. “I can do that.” He started scanning for the familiar colour scheme. Spotting them in the distance, he started hauling his suitcases in the general direction. Thank God for AirPods so he could burden his hyung with his woes hands-free. When he was about a twenty metres out,his heart sank as he realized that what he had thought to be his airline’s check-in point was decidedly... Not.

“ ** _Hyung!_** ” He keened desperately. There were too many people here and he was stressed and lost and he might have to speak English but he _couldn’t_ speak English- 

“ _What is it, Jinnie? What’s wrong?_ ” Chan asked.

“It’s the wrong one,” Hyunjin pouted. “I can’t find it-“

“ _Whoa, slow down_ ,” Chan said. “ _You’ve only been looking for like, two minutes_.” It had _not_ been only two minutes. It had been two _years_ and he was never going to catch his flight on time and he was going to be stranded at the airport forever. Or at least until his members showed up in three days.

“It’s been longer than that,” he muttered.

“ _Three minutes, then. If you’re scared of getting lost you can just ask someone.”_

_“But they all speak English!_ ” Hyunjin couldn’t help but whine.

“ _You can do it, Jinnie. Do you remember how to say ‘where is’ in English?_ ”

“Where is?” The English syllables felt a little strange on his tongue, but not terrible.

“ _Perfect_ ,” Chan said. “ _Just walk up to a staff, and say ‘Excuse me, where is Korean Air Check-in?’ Can you say that?_ ”

“Excuse me, where is Korean Air Check-in?” Hyunjin repeated. “Like that?”

“ _Perfect_ ,” Chan said warmly. “ _You can do this, Jinnie. Text me when you’re through security, okay?_ ”

“Okay.”

“ _I’m going to hang up now,_ ” Chan warned. Hyunjin took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said.

“ _Love you_ ,” Chan said. There was a click and then the line went dead. His phone pinged a second later- Chan had texted him the sentence he needed to ask in English. He could almost cry in relief. Bracing himself, he walked up to the nearest kiosk, the one with the similar airline colours. A tall, blond, very tan woman with a very plastic smile walked up to him and asked him how she could help him. He could feel his brain short-circuit for a minute.

“Excuse me,” he stammered. “Where... Um...” He fumbled with his phone for a minute before he managed to open it to look at the sentence Chan sent him. “Where is Korean Air Check-In?”

“Korean Air?” The representative said in a much-too-chipper voice. He nodded. She said something in English and he didn’t understand all of it but he understood enough to know that he had gone completely the wrong direction. Perhaps seeing that he was confused, the stewardess kindly let him over to a airport map on the wall and pointed it out to him. He thanked her and shuffled off in the right direction, hoping and _praying_ that it was the right one.

Five minutes after he had doubled back, he found what he was looking for, just barely restraining himself from running up to the nearest check-in assistant. He was an _adult_ now. Or, well, he had to pretend to be, at least, with no Hyungs or managers here.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Can you please help me?” The stewardess smiled at him with a gentle, “Of course!” In glorious, _glorious_ Korean. She guided him over to the machine to scan his passport and print his ticket, then shooed him off to the baggage check-in to get rid of his 20-kilo monstrosity of a suitcase. It was someone else’s problem now. At least until he picked it up on the other end. He hoped it wouldn’t get lost. Would it get lost? Luggage got lost sometimes, right? What do you even _do_ if your luggage gets lost? Oh, _god_ , travelling on your own was too _stressful_.

Once he was through baggage check, he was told to go to customs. Where customs _was_ , he had no idea. All his ticket told him was to go to Terminal B, Gate 35. _But_ ** _where_** _was the security check to get him there?_ Hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder, he glanced around as busy, impatient and irritable travellers bustled around him, searching for any possible hint at where he was supposed to be walking. There was a sudden tap on his shoulder and he jumped about a foot in the air.

“Ah, I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you need help?” It was the check-in hostess from earlier. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes please,” he said. “Where is customs?” The hostess sent him off in the right direction, and half an hour of bossy yelling and beeping machines later he found himself on the far side of customs, zipping his computer back into his backpack and mourning the loss of his confiscated energy drink. All things considered, he hadn’t done too terribly. He had remembered to pack his big toiletries and nail clippers in his checked luggage like Minho had said, so he didn’t have any further issue. He slid his mask over his face as their manager had told him to and slung the backpack over his shoulder.

Now he just needed to find his gate- what was it again? B33? B34? It was B-something. He’d just check his ticket, which was tucked in his passport- _Where was his passport?_ Shitshitshit, oh god, where was it? He was going to be stranded forever and- Oh, there it was. In the inner pocket of his jacket. He checked the ticket. Gate B35. Got it. It should be straightforward now, he just had to follow the signs- _Ooh! Starbucks!_

He ignored the nagging of his Shoulder Angel (whose voice bore an uncanny resemblance to Chan’s) that was telling him to “find the gate first so you don’t get lost when it really counts and blah, blah, blah” and hopped in line. He still had an hour, he could detour for a coffee. He put in his usual order (in English, no less!) and threw in a muffin, one of every cake pop flavour and a cookie, for no other reason than to take advantage of the fact that the Hyungs weren’t here to tell him not to.

Laden with his carb-heavy bounty, he once again began his search for the gate. He passed B47, then B48, and B49... Wait a minute, that didn’t make sense! He doubled back. _B35... B35... Ah!_ There was B30, it had to be closer to there, right? There it was! He hurried off to the gate, plunking down in the most isolated seat he could find and pulled out his phone, pulling up Youtube. He had been watching for a while when his fancam that he’d been watching was interrupted by an incoming call. He almost dropped his phone in surprise.

“Hello?” He said.

_“Hyunjin-ah! Are you alright? Did you make it through?”_

Oh, _right!_ He was supposed to text their manager when he got through security!

“Ah- Yes! Sorry Hyung, I forgot to text. I’m at the gate now.” The older man sighed in half-relief and half-exasperation.

“ _You’re going to cause me to go grey, Kid,_ ” he said fondly. “ _Are you sure you’re at the right gate?_ ”

Hyunjin frowned. He had thought so. He glanced up at the monitor. Flight KE0018. The same as his ticket. That meant he was in the right place, right? He voiced his concern, and the manager laughed. Actually **_laughed_** _at him!_

“ _Yes, you’re in the right place. Good job, Kiddo! I’m proud of you._ ”

“Don’t make me second-guess myself!” Hyunjin squawked. “This was stressful enough already!”

“ _It’s stressful for me too_ ,” the older man commiserated. “ _I don’t like sending you off by yourself. You did well, Hyunjin-ah_.” Hyunjin preened at those words, feeling more confident by the second.

“ _Are they almost ready to board?_ ” The man asked. Hyunjin glanced over to the help desk, where numerous members of the flight crew were flitting about, setting up stanchions and chatting rapidly with the men in high-viz vests.

“Getting there,” he said.

“ _Okay. Remember what I told you, okay? Listen for them to call your zone- you should be business class. If you get sat next to a sasaeng, ask to switch. You shouldn’t, we took precautions but you never know._ ”

“Got it,” Hyunjin said.

“ _When you touch down and go through customs at home there will be a security team and another one of the managers as well. Find them first, then go get your bags. Okay?_ ”

“Okay,” Hyunjin said. He could handle that.

“ _I’ve emailed you the instructions because I know you’ll forget them between now and then_ ,” the man continued. Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

“Thanks Hyung,” he said. There was a scuffle on the other end of the call, and voices that he couldn’t quite make out.

“ _Hyunjin-ah, you’re on speaker now, the boys wanted to say goodbye to you_ ,” came the manager’s voice after a moment of static. Hyunjin beamed.

“ _Hyunjin-ah! You made it!_ ” Chan’s voice came first. “ _You were supposed to text me, you idiot!”_

“Sorry, Hyung,” He responded sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“ _Don’t worry about it,_ ” Chan said warmly. “ _Have a good flight, okay? And remember to try to sleep-_ “

“- _No, don’t sleep-_ “ That would be Jisung cutting the leader off. “ _Drink a shit ton of caffeine and stay up the whole time, the Hyungs aren’t there to stop you_ -“

“- _Don’t do that._ ” Minho. “ _You’ll be hopped up and the poor stewardesses will have to handcuff you to the chair. That’s bad for our image-_ “

“- _Yah, Hyunjin-ah! Did you steal my moisturizer?_ ”

“No!” (He had. Changbin’s was excellent quality, plus he had an extra one anyways and Hyunjin was out.)

“ _He definitely did_ ,” Seungmin said. “ _I saw him pack it_.” Snitch.

“I’m gonna miss everyone except Seungmin.”

“ _Hyunjin-ah_ ,” Chan chided. “ _Don’t steal Binnie’s things without asking!_ ”

“Why am I getting in trouble? Innie does it too!”

“ _Do not!_ ” Jeongin yelped.

“ _You do._ ” That was Seungmin again.

“ _Whatever_ ,” Jeongin said. “ _I’m not going to miss you, Hyunjin-hyung. I hope you have a bad flight, you bus-thrower-under._ ” 

“ ** _Innie!_** _That’s not nice! What if Hyunjin’s plane crashes and that’s the last thing that you ever say to him?_ ” Wow. That made him feel super safe as he was about to board. Thanks, Minho-Hyung.

“ _Fine. I hope your plane doesn’t crash._ ”

“ _Me too,_ ” Felix said. “ _Please don’t die. You promised me you’d play League of Legends with me, you’re not allowed to die before you make good on that promise_.”

“ _So if he never plays with you does that make him immortal?_ ”

“ _We should test that. Quick, Lix, make me make a promise!_ ”

“ ** _Now boarding passengers for Korean Air flight KE0017. We’d like to invite passengers seated in our business class and priority boarding to proceed to the gate,_** ” one of the flight attendants’ voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

“Ah, I need to go,” Hyunjin said, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “They’re starting to board now.”

“ _Okay! Bye, Hyunjin-ah! Have a safe flight!_ ”

“ _Love you!_ ”

“ _Don’t forget to double check where you were sitting so you don’t leave any of your belongings!_ ” Hyunjin glanced back down at his seat, where his charger was still plugging into the outlet in the armrest.

“Thanks Hyung,” he said, collecting the wire and shoving it in his pocket. “Love you.”

“ _Love you too. See you in a few days_.”

A few days. Hyunjin could do that! The line went dead and Hyunjin slid his phone into his pocket, lining up at the gate. The stewardess scanned his ticket and his passport and waved him through, and he wandered down the long hallway to the door of the plane. Soon enough, he was seated comfortably with his backpack tucked underneath his seat and his blanket tucked on his lap because the cabin air conditioner was _cold_.

The safety messages played and were tuned out, except when they mentioned putting devices on airplane mode. He slid his phone out, smiling at the ‘Bye, Hyunjin!’ group selfie at the boardwalk that Jisung had texted him, and then the plane was taxiing. The hostess came by and offered him a drink, and he was tempted to choose an espresso, because Chan never let them have espresso on a plane (something about them getting too hyper to be trapped an enclosed metal capsule hurtling through the skies), but settled on a hot chocolate to start. He popped in his earbuds to watch one of the in-flight movies and settled in for the long haul. Only twelve hours and twenty-seven minutes to go.

Four hours and eight minutes later, and he’d already reached his limit. He had quickly run out of interesting films _and_ TV episodes to watch ( _seriously_ , who was the genius who thought only offering two episodes of any given show as in-flight entertainment was a good idea? How was _anyone_ supposed to binge watch with only _two episodes?_ ), and he was bored and restless. And he didn’t know what to _do_. Normally at this point in the flight he wouldstart goofing off with Han, or playing some sort of intellectual puzzle game with Seungmin, or cuddling up next to Felix for some deeply philosophical but utterly pointless discussion. But he couldn’t do any of that because the others weren’t here with him. And he didn’t even have a window seat so he couldn’t even watch the clouds.

He never thought he’d miss Chan’s quietly hissed reprimands to “keep it down, kids! Be respectful of the other passengers who are trying to sleep,” but here he was. The first in-flight meal had provided him with a brief reprieve, but then he was back to fidgeting in his seat with nothing to do. Sighing to himself, he shifted in his seat and pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly, desperate for _something_ to do. He started decluttering his photo app, but that got old after an hour or so, so he sighed and tucked his phone back away. He was _bored!_

Soon the stewardesses came around and started dimming the windows, preparing for the artificially created bedtime. Hyunjin wasn’t tired, but he had nothing better to do, so he might as well try to sleep. He turned his seat into a bed, wrapping himself in the airline-provided blankets and his own (the cabin was still too cold and Minho wasn’t here to throw his blanket and an extra hoodie at his face) and tried to sleep, but sleep didn’t seem to want to come.

Sighing, he pulled up the music app on his phone, searching for something to help him. He hit shuffle on a slower, pensive playlist on his phone, but the music was too distracting. It just didn’t feel... right. Until the familiar intro of one of their own songs started filtering through. Somehow, hearing everybody’s voices through his headphones almost helped him to forget that he was flying solo at the moment. He hit the repeat button and allowed himself to doze off. 

The song was still playing when he awoke some hours later to the warning chime that his AirPods were dying. Sighing to himself, he shoved them back in their case, before propping himself up to look around the still-dark aircraft. He checked the time- four hours to go- and then flopped into his pillow and groaned. What was he supposed to _do_ for the next four hours? ‘ _Sleep more_ ,’ Shoulder-Chan told him. But he didn’t really want to. Instead, he ordered a coffee, dipped into his stash of cake pops and scrolled aimlessly through his phone, until that bored him back into a restless sleep.

By the time he had woken up and finished his second inflight meal, he was ready to get off the plane, like, _right that minute_. He normally hit this point on long haul flights; sitting still and in one spot for that long left him agitated and desperate to _move_ , but normally he had members to distract him and Hyungs to temper his fidgetiness. On their flight over Changbin had literally thumb-wrestled him for an hour just to give him something to _do_ , but he couldn’t very well thumb wrestle himself, now, could he?

Instead, found himself tapping his fingers on his knees. It dawned on him eventually that the rhythm of his fingers matched the rhythm of their latest single. The counts had evidently become so engrained in him from the hours and hours of dance practice that they had seeped into his subconscious. Out of habit he turned to share that oddity with whatever member was closest, but... The members weren’t there. He doubted the important-looking businessman next to him would appreciate the anecdote as much. He went back to his tapping.

By the time he had gotten off the plane, collected his luggage and met his team (had he forgotten to meet the security detail before going to baggage like he’d been told? Well, yeah, but he wasn’t gonna tell. He had only encountered a couple fans who just took his picture and left), he was more than ready to just be _home_. But home was still two hours away. He recognized the stand-in manager as one that regularly worked with the 2PM members, but knew nothing else about him, so conversation was slow.

When they arrived at the dorm, the staff member helped him carry his luggage upstairs and left him to his own devices, leaving his contact details should Hyunjin need to reach him and promising to pick him up on time the next morning to get him to the studio on time to film. Hyunjin thanked him and saw him off. The door clicked shut, and Hyunjin found himself standing in the entrance, rooted to the spot. Now what was he supposed to do?

He stopped to think. What would Chan and Minho make him do? First things first, Chan would insist that all shoes and coats be hung up properly. That was step one. Then Minho would dart down the hall to turn on the boiler or the aircon, depending on the season, to start to bring their dorm back to a hospitable temperature. Hyunjin wasn’t quite sure how to do that. Minho had shown him several times, but there were too many buttons and he always got confused so normally he just whined until Seungmin rolled his eyes and did it for him.But Seungmin wasn’t here, so it was up to him to fiddle with the buttons. Eventually he figured it out (he hoped). The boiler kicked on, at any rate, so he must have done something right. He’d see in an hour or two if he had gone overboard and turned the dorm turned into a sauna.

Okay. What next? Laundry. Chan always made them draw a number to determine the order of who got to do laundry. It was non-negotiable, even if you were okay with going last because “If I don’t make you pick a number and hold you accountable you’re just leave it for weeks before doing it, Hyunjin, now take a number.” He supposed Chan was right. He might as well just get the laundry over with. He started his first load, closing the door of the laundry room behind him. Had the washing machine always been that loud? He’d never noticed before.

He took a nice, long shower and used all the hot water, just because he could, then padded into the kitchen to see if they had any snacks. He doubted they would, they normally cleared everything out before they left on tour but it was worth a shot. He found a packet of ramen tucked away at the back of a shelf that Jisung was _probably_ trying to hoard and cooked it. Jisung would forgive him eventually. He dumped his dishes in the sink and went to flip his laundry.

The dorm was _too quiet._ He could hear his every footstep echo through the empty space and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t stay in the silence, it was driving him crazy. So he did what any sane person would do and took a bus to the company to drown himself in individual practice time. The clock on his phone said that it was close to nine pm, his internal clock was telling him it was only four am. Was he tired? Yes. Did he care? No. He grabbed his wallet and company ID and left the dorm, stopping for a late dinner at one of their favourite restaurants before continuing on to the studio and immersed himself in some practice time. It felt _so good_ to move after being stuck sitting down for an entire day.

Eventually, he flopped down for a break and started scrolling through his phone. He was really tired now, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to pack up and go home to the silence. At that moment, his phone buzzed with an incoming text from Chan. The timing was almost comedic. It was as though their leader had a sort of radar out that told him when something was even slightly amiss with one of them- he always just seemed to _know_.

_I know you won’t see this until you wake up but don’t forget to get groceries for yourself today_ , the text read. It was quickly succeeded by a follow-up. _You can’t just eat takeout for the next three days._ He rolled his eyes and shot off his response without thinking.

_I can so._

Chan’s reaction was instantaneous. Hyunjin’s phone started ringing mere _seconds_ after he sent off the text. He quirked his lip and picked up.

“Hi Hyung,” He said.

_“Why are you still awake?”_ Chan demanded. Hyunjin huffed.

“Hello to you too,” he said.

“ _Hi, Hyunjinnie,_ ” Chan sighed. Hyunjin could hear the indulgence in his voice even from 9000 kilometres away and it had him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. _“Why are you still awake? It’s 3:00 am in Korea and you have to leave for Music Core at 8:30.”_ Was it really?

“...Jet lag?” He tried. Chan snorted.

“ _A likely story,_ ” he said. “ _The jet lag should have put you to sleep hours ago_. _Go to bed._ ”

“No.”

“ _Brat. Just because I’m not in the country with you doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass from across the sea. I’m flicking you on the forehead telepathically, let me know when it reaches you._ ” Hyunjin laughed. This Hyung, _honestly_. So nonsensical.

“Hyung, _relax_ ,” he said. “I’ll go to bed as soon as I’ve got this move right.” There was a pregnant pause.

“ _Are you at the company?_ ” **_Shit_**. He hadn’t meant to give that little secret away. Chan sounded suspicious and disappointed, all wrapped up into one. There went the warm fuzzies.

“No?” He squeaked.

“ _Don’t lie to me,_ ” Chan scolded. Indulgent-Hyung-Chan had given way to Disappointed-Dad-Chan who was _significantly less fun._ Hyunjin could hear the change from a mile away. Well, 9000 kilometres away. How many miles was that?

“ _Hyunjin! Where are you right now?_ ”

“The company,” Hyunjin admitted reluctantly.

“ _Go home and go to bed! You_ ** _know_** _you’re not supposed to stay late when you have an early morning_ ,” Chan scolded.

“Don’t wanna,” Hyunjin muttered.

“ _Why not?_ ” Chan sighed. “ _You won’t fall behind if you go home now, I promise. Go get some sleep_.” This was a familiar conversation between the two of them. Sometimes (often) he would stay late practicing a routine (or sometimes a move) to the point of perfection (Chan would say it was to the point of obsession), and then Chan would come find him and go all you-can’t-overwork-yourself-you’ll-make-your-health-deteriorate and then Hyunjin would call him a hypocrite and get scolded for being disrespectful and told to “pack up and come home with me now or I will drag you back by your ear” and he’d inevitably end up sleeping in Chan’s bed. Normally those arguments left him frustrated and wishing that Chan would just _go away_ (at least until they got to the cuddling part of the evening when Chan would shower him in praise and reassurances), but tonight he found himself wishing Chan were here to scold him in person.

“But-“ he floundered. _But I don’t want to go back home, it doesn’t feel like home without you there._

“ _Hyunjin-ah_ ,” came Chan’s warning. “ _Go home and sleep. You’re going to be miserable tomorrow otherwise._ ” Hyunjin huffed. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to sleep anyways. What was the point?

“Fine,” he muttered eventually. “But I’m sleeping in your bed tonight.” Chan laughed.

“ _Go right ahead_ ,” he said. “ _As long as you actually go home and sleep. Text me when you get back to the dorm, alright? Don’t forget this time._ ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunjin said flippantly. He hung up and pocketed his phone, quickly cleaning the practice room and returning home like he’d been told. By the time he got there it was almost four in the morning. He changed into pyjamas and flew through his night routine, then shuffled off to Chan’s room and dove under the covers, bringing them all the way up over his head. The dorm may be empty and cavernous but he had a little cocoon of warmth that somehow still felt like Chan so maybe he’d be okay.

Getting up the next morning was a bitch. He had set, like, ten alarms for himself to go off at three minute intervals to make sure he actually managed to wake up and not fall right back asleep ( _god_ he missed Seungmin, the singer was way kinder on his ears than the obnoxious ringtone that grated on his patience), and even then he had barely managed to drag himself out of bed. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure he had entirely woken up at any point that day. Hair and makeup and costuming were all just a blur, and he was pretty much running on adrenaline during the filming. By the end of it, he wanted nothing more than to nap. Preferably for like twelve hours. (Okay, he wanted to go to bed.) He could go grocery shopping tomorrow.

He didn’t go grocery shopping tomorrow. Or the day after that. He _did_ go to the convenience store to pick up some essentials (ramen, snacks, a couple microwaveable meals and some drinks). Chan would never know as long as he conveniently “lost the receipts.” He had gone to the company to practice for a few hours that day, but found he was too antsy to focus, so instead returned to the dorm so he’d be there when the others arrived. He had to move all of his belongings back to his room, too; he had practically moved into Chan’s bed the last couple nights and somehow he didn’t think Chan would appreciate coming home and _not_ having a bed ready to pass out into.

The last couple days had been long and empty, and he had found himself

avoiding the dorm at all costs. He had visited his parents briefly, which had been really nice. They had taken him out to dinner and his mom had sent him home with a smorgasbord of side dishes to tide him over until the others got home. The visit had helped his loneliness for a little while, but as soon as he was back through the door at home, he was reminded of just how alone he was.

Maybe that’s why the time seemed to be crawling by so slowly as he sat on the couch and watched the door, waiting for the moment it would fly open and reveal the rest of the team. They were due back any time now, he knew for a fact because Jisung had texted him as soon as they were through customs and that had been two and a half hours ago. He decided to tempt fate and go grab a snack from the kitchen. He was halfway through his bag of chips when he heard the door open, and he was in the entry and in the arms of the closest member in mere seconds.

“You’re _home_ ,” he breathed.

“We’re home,” Chan said softly, returning the hug. He still smelled vaguely of airplane but Hyunjin couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m _so_ happy to see you, Hyunjinnie.”

“Channie-Hyung was so stressed on the flight,” Jisung informed him gleefully as he glomped onto Hyunjin from behind. “We got to the airport and he kept freaking out because he was only counting to 7 instead of 8. It was kind of pitiful to watch.” Hyunjin glanced to at for confirmation. _Had they really missed him as much as he had missed all of them?_

“It’s true,” Chan said ruefully. “It gave me a heart attack nearly every time I counted and you weren’t there. I kept thinking you’d run off to Starbucks and gotten lost trying to find your way back to the gate. Again.” Hyunjin generously ignored the subtle dig at his admittedly mediocre airport navigation instincts in favour of burying his face in the leader’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into Chan’s hood.

“I missed you too,” Chan murmured. “Was everything okay while we were gone?”

“It was too _quiet_ ,” Hyunjin grumped. “And the flight was so boring. But I got to see my parents, so that was nice.” Chan smiled at him.

“I’m so proud of you,” the leader said. “You did so well living on your own.” Hyunjin beamed.

“As nice as this happy little reunion is,” Changbin cut in. “I really need to pee and you’re blocking the door. Can we move this further inside?” Everyone piled further into the dorm, and soon the three-man-hug became an eight-man hug (once Changbin returned from the bathroom) and then everything was right in Hyunjin’s world again.

“We should probably draw lots and get the laundry started,” Chan mused after a minute, and Hyunjin couldn’t help but pout. _Way to kill the moment, Chan-Hyung_. “The sooner we’re all settled the sooner we can get food.”

Minho drew the first lot, and wandered off to throw his laundry in the machine while the rest piled their dirty clothes out in the living room and put the rest of their belongings away and caught Hyunjin up to speed on the few days he had missed.

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin!” Minho bellowed from the laundry room over the glorious din of a well-lived-in dorm.

“Yeah?” He called back from where he was curled up next to Changbin on the couch.

“Why didn’t you put your laundry away, you idiot? There’s no more room on the drying racks!” Hyunjin winced. He had forgotten about his final load that he had hung out to dry three days prior.

“Sorry!” He called. Minho emerged with a basket of Hyunjin’s folded laundry a few minutes later.

“You’re an idiot,” Minho said, but there was no bite in his voice.

“You missed me,” Hyunjin giggled.

“Sure,” Minho said. “I’m leaving this on your bed.” A few minutes later, Chan popped his head out of the kitchen, frowning.

“Hyunjin-ah, I’m a little concerned at the lack of vegetables in the fridge,” he said. “And the amount of takeout containers in the trash. Didn’t I tell you to go grocery shopping? Did you forget or were you just too lazy?” Damn. He should have hid his trash better.

“Um...” He said. Chan sighed.

“ _Hyunjin!_ ” He scolded.

“You missed me!” Hyunjin squeaked, using Changbin as a shield from the elder’s wrath. Chan’s eyes softened and he huffed a bemused laugh.

“I did,” he agreed. “And you’re lucky I did, you little monster.” Hyunjin giggled as Chan drew back into the kitchen. Changbin quirked an eyebrow from beside him.

“What?” Hyunjin demanded.

“That line’s not gonna keep working,” the elder rapper said. “It’s gonna get old real quick.”

“I know,” Hyunjin giggled. “That’s why I’ve got to make the most out of it now.”

“You’re a nuisance,” Changbin snorted.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin said breezily. “But you missed me.” Changbin rolled his eyes and stuck his finger in Hyunjin’s rib cage. Hyunjin yelped in indignation at the offence. Changbin laughed and pulled him in closer.

“That was mean,” Hyunjin pouted.

“But you missed me,” Changbin said with a shit-eating grin. Hyunjin laughed and rested his head on Changbin’s shoulder.

“I really did,” he said. “I’m so happy you’re home now.”


End file.
